Crossroads
by CrimsonSkyTamer
Summary: In this world, the League holds sway. Every four years, a tournament is held to decide a new Champion. This time, all the pieces have gathered on the board, and the gears have begun to turn. Those who will fight bide their time, but it will soon come. The warp and weft of the opposing forces will entangle in the loom, forming a web that marks the beginning - or the end. SYOC Closed
1. Prologue

_A/N:_

 _To start things off, this is my first pokemon fic, though not my first SYOC - the others stem from the Danganronpa fandom, but I shall not bore you with the School Lives of Mutual Killing any more than I have to._

 _Probably. :3c_

 _Also, I make a lot of typos while on mobile due to autocorrect and swipe or whatever that function is called. Some of them are really good for laughs, though._

 _You know what, I have no idea what else to say here, so… on with the story._

 _Yeah. Roll clip._

* * *

 **Prologue**

* * *

"You're up in a bit," muttered the cameraman next to him, as the raven-haired man sharply nodded once in acknowledgement, trademark smile already in place.

He resisted the urge to run a hand through his black locks, not wanting to have gel all over his hands - it would end up disastrous, most likely. The man could feel all eyes on him now, as the cameraman mouthed the countdown till air time and a few other crew members fine-tuned the sound system and shifted the overhanging boom mike.

 _3…_

 _2…_

 _1…_

 _It's showtime._

Taking a deep breath, he put on his brightest smile, before launching into his opening spiel. "Gooooooood evening, ladies and gentlemen! It's all smiles for miles with me, your host, Miles Fletcher! I'm coming to you live from the Pokemon League, where I'm going to be both commentating _and_ participating in this year's tournament!"

That last one drew raised eyebrows and a few muffled gasps from the crew, who he had not informed beforehand. Ah well, no big loss there.

"For the next few days, the twenty-two Marked candidates will be joining us here at the League. Well, twenty-one, excluding myself! I will, of course, endeavour to go behind the scenes and dig up the much awaited gossip and scandal stories for all you tabloids to make a pretty penny out of, so you can thank me later! Until next time, this is Miles Fletcher, signing out!"

"-and cut!" motioned the cameraman, and the equipment was quickly packed up, the team ready to move into their next location. "Can't believe you didn't tell us, man," came the wry grin from the one of the sound system handlers, but the man merely gives his team a bright smile. He could definitely pass for younger, though, given his youthful-looking appearance.

He didn't get a chance to reply, however, for a discussion about this year's tournament soon broke out between the crew. Fingering one of his earrings, the announcer began to walk away, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Take care of yourself out there," was the comment from the cameraman, before he rejoined his team, leaving Miles to contemplate whatever weird stroke of fortune saddled him with this job, especially since he was going to have to battle for his pride in just a couple of days.

But it was alright, he supposed, if only because he had the utmost of faith in his team - and his luck.

* * *

 **In this era, it is a time of peace… or so they say. The League controls the regions, and an opportunity for change comes only for a few, once every four years.**

 **The gyms have been closed down, and trainer battling outside the tournament is illegal, on the pain of banishment or death. Such an existence is led by the common folk - a peaceful existence; a mundane existence.**

 **Mere followers, in other words, with the power concentrated solely in the hands of the privileged few.**

 **A fraction of the population have begun a small, but powerful revolution. They wait in hiding for now, but their time will soon come.**

 **Just as it is the time of twenty-two Marked who have gathered, for the tournament. Some will fight, some will die - but only one will be the Champion.**

 **Welcome to the tournament, on the stage that is Kanto.**

 **Will you fight for the rebels, when the time is right? Or will you defend the monarchy of the League, and keep the peace?**

 **Do try not to regret your choice - it may very well be your last.**

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Greetings!_ _On to proper introductions; I am_ _ **CrimsonSkyTamer**_ _, but call me Sky._

 _And yes, this is an SYOC. I'm not too good at pokemon, as SD can no doubt testify to, but with my co-authors_ _ **SDproductions**_ _and_ _ **emosewa-13**_ _, I'll be alright._

 _Probably._

 _The character form will be posted below and on my profile, and I look forward to receiving your entries. :3c Once again, thank you for reading the prologue, and I hope to be able to update soon._

 _Until next time; unless, of course, SD or Emo wants to say something…_

 _Help me! I'm being forced to work pro bono! - SD_

 _Shoosh, SD. - Emo_

* * *

 **Main OCs in chapter**

 **?** \- Miles Fletcher ( _SDproductions_ )

* * *

 **Please note that I will no longer be accepting any more tournament participants who have sided with the rebels. If you wish to participate in the tournament, it is now a requirement to be sided either with the League or be part of the neutral faction.**

 **Other spots in the rebel hierarchy remain open.** **Vacancies are avaliable should you wish to submit a character to be part of the Elite Four.**

* * *

 **Character Form**

 _*Anything with the field (optional) is, well, optional. :3_

 _**I will not be accepting any OCs submitted via reviews, because they simply reveal too much about the character, and that's simply no fun. :3c_

Name: (Specify given and last name; middle name optional)

Nickname/Alias: (optional; and example of a title would be **The Immovable Fortress** , etc.)

Age: (as long as it's reasonable)

Gender:

Allegiance: (Neutral, Rebel or League)

Colour: (optional - just here because the author wants trivia)

Personality: (if you give me less than five lines, I will release SD on you; do _not_ make me release SD on you)

History: (Again, five lines minimum, or meet SD)

Appearance: (eyes, hair colour, body build, height, weight, etc.)

Clothing: (unusual is fine - unrealistic is not)

Weapon: (no guns, no energy beams, no light sabers etc.)

Romance: (optional)

(Sexual) Orientation: (only if you want them to fall in love?)

Death: (optional - this does not indicate certain death, unless you somehow really really want it…?)

Quotes: (at least two or three, thank you)

(Everyone in this verse usually carries only one Pokémon with them at all times, and as such, you are also restricted to only one Pokémon. On that note, show some variety, people. If I see a combined total of more than three of any pseudo-legendary/Lucario/Zoroark/Starter Pokemon between the forms, I'll reject all of the forms involved without batting an eyelid. Yep. You have been warned.)

(Signature) Pokemon:

Nickname: (optional)

Gender:

Moveset: (4 to 7 moves)

Pokeball:

Personality: (of the pokemon; four lines minimum, yeah?)

History with trainer:

Relationship with trainer:

Anything else?:


	2. Chapter 1

_A/N:_

 _I didn't expect so many good characters coming my way. O A O Now it makes me feel horrible that I'll have to end up killing a few down the road…_

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **Max**

 **(feat. Blaise, Samuel and Miles)**

* * *

His hand closed around the piece of paper, just like it had much earlier around the intricately decorated envelope it had come with - said envelope had been discarded long ago, flung into a wastebasket in the small hut he called home.

Never had he expected this of all things to happen, but then again, there was much the teen didn't expect.

The words on the now-crumpled piece of paper had imprinted themselves in his mind; there was no longer a need to look for him to recall the message on the letter, word for word.

 _Max Rogers:_

 _You have been chosen as one of the twenty-two, and invited to the Tournament._

 _The location will be the Indigo Plateau, and you are expected within 72 hours of receiving the letter. You may arm yourself, but bring only one Pokémon with you- nothing more, nothing less._

 _Attendance is compulsory. Failure to show up will result in immediate banishment from Kanto._

 _May the odds be ever in your favour._

 _Signed;_

 _Enoch Maxwell_

How did the League even find him anyway? Surely their eyes and ears didn't extend to the forest? But the die had been thrown; the letter had been delivered, and if he didn't comply…

 _No_. Max shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thought. He had to be able to return, just in case. Even if she didn't want him back, even if he never did go back, he needed to at least remain in the region - how else would he be able to find _him_?

Almost as if sensing Max's distress, his Butterfree slowed to a hover, her wings beating strongly to keep them both in the skies. The sound was usually comforting, but today, the wingbeats registered about as much as audio wallpaper would have.

They were close to the Indigo Plateau now - once they entered, there would be no turning back. _"Hey… are you sure about this?"_

A reassuring hand patted her head, but she could feel the slight trembling the teen was trying to hide. Even though Max didn't understand her, he knew she was concerned; there was no other reason to stop just outside the area, after all. "It's alright. Just take us there, okay?"

 _"Got it, Max_ ," Butterfree returned an acknowledgement, before beginning to fly forward once more. In a few minutes, she would begin the descent, and they would arrive at the entrance to Victory Road. Beyond that waited the Indigo Plateau - but just what awaited them there?

The cold air rushed past as their descent began, further messing his scruffy black bangs. Max pulled his white-and-navy jacket closer to him, refusing to take his gaze off the imposing tunnel that they were quickly approaching.

 _Now!_ The teen jumped off just as his Butterfree sailed past the tunnel mouth, landing on his feet in what would have been a perfect landing.

Key word: _would_. If only there hadn't been someone in the way.

"Look out bel-" CRASH!

 _"...Oops."_

 _"I do believe 'Oops' is correct, yes."_

Max groaned, pushing himself off the ground - though surprisingly, the ground wasn't as hard as it seemed. Come to think of it… why was the ground squishy? And how hadn't he broken his nose from the faceful of ground yet?

"I'm sure that you could've landed in a better place than between my breasts, but at least you didn't crack your skull." The voice was mildly amused, but he didn't have much time to register it (or the embarrassment that came with realizing just where he had landed) before he was none-too-carefully shoved away, landing on the actual ground with a thud.

"Ooooow..." The black-haired teen winced, before pushing himself into a sitting position. "What the heck-"

His next words died in his throat, however, when he saw just who he had crash landed into.

Seated on the floor was a young, willowy woman, with shoulder-length, dark auburn hair and tyrian purple lipstick. Her dark red cloak was a little dusty, but none worse for the wear; not even the small lantern-like trinkets that hung off hooks on its hem had been displaced.

He didn't recognize her, but instead, the object lying next to her, which gave away her identity.

The long piece of black metal had one end that ended in a spike, with the other ending in a handleless candle holder with a wax basin, surrounded by a series of iron spikes bent inward - no doubt to give the impression of a sceptre.

Even as Max continued to stare, molten wax dripped from the head of the staff, pooling on the tunnel floor. It was quickly swept away by a black candelabra with ghostly violet-blue flames, however, though the lady seemed to pay it no heed, instead choosing to pick up her staff and get to her feet. His hazel gaze met the glowing eyes of the Chandelure; Max felt a chill go down his spine, and the strange sensation of-

 _"You know, I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to Hex him."_

A familiar, feather-like touch across a cheek brought him back, causing the black-haired teen to hastily look away when he realised he'd been staring. "You okay?" He questioned, to which Butterfree nodded, a little exasperatedly. _"You nearly get Hexed and you ask if **I'm** okay? Really?"_

But he didn't reply, instead turning to the other, more human presence. "You're the Wax Witch." It wasn't a question, and neither did he expect an answer in return.

"I see my reputation precedes me. How quaint." She giggled.

Max nodded once, slowly. "I've heard of you," but gave nothing else. It wouldn't do to give information so freely; it was common knowledge that walls had ears, after all. "I suppose you've been invited to the same thing I have?"

A light chuckle was his only reply, as she began walking further into the heart of Victory Road. The Chandelure followed his auburn-haired lady in silence, sweeping up the wax left in her wake. Though, Max supposed, it really had been a redundant question.

Who else would want to be caught dead - or alive - in this part of Kanto?

A gentle breeze filled the tunnel; Butterfree had taken to the air, and was now hovering beside him. His hand reached, almost automatically, to the quiver and bow that was slung across his back. The metal felt cold beneath his fingers, reminded him of who he was - and just where he was.

He couldn't lose.

"Let's go." In a confident voice that betrayed none of his fears, Max took a deep breath; and with Butterfree by his side, began walking further into the tunnel.

* * *

The walk was mostly silent, with the Chandelure in front and Max bringing up the rear, Butterfree right next to him. Only the quiet clinks of the lanterns were heard, but then again, it was an uneasy silence; the fact that both of them were Marked hung over them like the gleaming blade of a guillotine.

"Stop right there!"

 _Oh?_ Max looked around warily, not finding anything but the dark walls of the cavern, illuminated by the glowing Chandelure and the miniature ghostly balls of fire that floated around it. _Voices without people? Please, that has to be the oldest ghost-related trick in the book._

"I said, stop right there!" The voice was definitely louder now, and accompanied by… footsteps? No, it was multiple _thuds_ , implying that there was definitely more than one person.

"Hm?" The auburn-haired Witch smiled, and with a wave of her hand, the lights went out, leaving only her Chandelure's eyes glowing like orange lamps in the darkness. "Seems like we have company. Lundstrom, if you will?"

Both humans and Pokémon remained still as the footsteps rounded the corner messily, cautiously. Max gripped his bow, readying himself to draw an arrow, when-

Light and flames flooded the tunnel, causing the teen to hurriedly shield his eyes. _"Will-o-Wisp!"_ was the Chandelure's gleeful smile, as his lady chuckled, having averted her gaze - she had predicted what was coming, after all.

"Are you mad?!" Max yelled, blindly searching for Butterfree, who was perfectly unharmed but just as inconvenienced by the bright flare as he was. _"What the heck was that all about?"_

 _Shing_! The sound of metal slicing through air caused both to freeze.

"Alright, commoners. Step away from your Pokémon." Apparently, their 'pursuers' had been mostly unaffected - not a good sign. "This part of the Victory Road is off-limits; now state your business, including a good reason why we shouldn't kill you."

"Wait, what?" Baffled, Max raised his hands in the air - the universal gesture for surrender. "Doesn't the Victory Road lead to the Indigo Plateau?"

The swords lowered slightly. "Are you trying to say that you're Tournament candidates?" Still wary, but a little less likely to kill…probably.

"Indeed," affirms the Wax Witch. A small snap of her fingers serves as a signal, with Lundstrom lighting up the tunnel once more. The blue light reflected off the swords and metal armour of their pursuers, identifying them as enforcers of the League. "Blaise Candeloro. My friend here is… Well, he's here."

The darkened visors turned to Max, who hastily identified himself. "Max Rogers." He really didn't need to die any time soon, after all. "I thought the Victory Road was a one way path? Why is there a section with restricted access?"

"No questions." comes the harsh statement, but the swords were sheathed in their scabbards. "Take the road back; at the first split, take the other fork."

"Wait, so-" Max began, only to be cut off by someone else.

Or rather, something else.

The tunnel was further lighted up, courtesy of the large, yellow Pokémon that entered the scene. It was not as tall as either of them, but the black stripes, white belly and red orb on its forehead indicated that it was an Ampharos.

It held up a stubby arm, and as soon as they saw it, the enforcers immediately jumped to attention. "Sir!"

"Woah, woah - stand down." Running a hand through short, honey-blond locks, a person walked into the tunnel, moving to stand beside the Ampharos. "Didn't I already mention that there isn't a need for the 'sir this, sir that'?"

His dark brown gaze fixed on both candidates, narrowing when he saw the staff. "Oh? Now just what do we have here?" His casual tone never changed, but the sudden chill in the atmosphere definitely did not go unnoticed.

Max's gaze travelled from the Ampharos to the man, and back again. It clicked - he knew who this was. Only by reputation, but if the rumors were to be believed, then this man was definitely someone to be feared.

His dress shirt and trousers were as black as night, but the snow-white trench coat, while deceptively clean for someone who had been walking in a tunnel, concealed a dangerous machete. "Ampere?"

 _"-ros."_ The light dimmed back to comfortable levels.

Rubbing his eyes, he adjusted back to normalcy as the blond man sighed, "So, care to explain why you're in here, and not at the Indigo Plateau?"

The situation really couldn't be called life-threatening, but it somehow felt that way. Though, Max supposed, the fact that even the Ampharos was glaring at them didn't help their situation much.

"As was previously stated," Blaise stated calmly, "we were on our way to the Indigo Plateau, but somehow ended up… lost."

The man said nothing, only raising an eyebrow in clear disbelief.

"If you'll pardon the interruption, sir," began one of the enforcers, "we were just about to-"

"Leave." was all the man said, waving a dismissive hand.

The enforcers were silent for a while, before they complied with the order. As soon as they left, however, all tension seemed to drain out of the air, with the man letting out a long-drawn sigh. "I probably should apologise for that. The enforcers expect a certain behavior, and frankly, it's easier to just meet their expectations than to break them."

"I… see." Max stated, shooting a sideways glance at Butterfree. _Actually, I don't._

The man chuckled, patting Ampere on his head gently. Looking pleased, the yellow Pokémon relaxed a little. "I guess I had better bring you both to the Indigo Plateau, just to prevent any more… ah, adventuring."

"I see no reason to follow you, given that you've given us absolutely no verification of just who you are." Blaise remained unmoving, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Max blinked. "Wait, how could you not know who he is?" The black-haired teen gestured to the man in utter disbelief, "Heck, I've been in and out of the forest for years, and even I know who he is. How could a city-dweller like you not know such basic information?"

"I never said that." She looked at Max for the briefest of moments, before her gaze returned to the man standing before them. "I said only that he has given us no reason to believe just who he seems to be - aside from the Ampharos, of course." This last afterthought was added after a particularly sharp glare was thrown her way, courtesy of aforementioned Pokemon.

The man merely laughed, before walking out. "Forgive me, but I see no reason to give you adequate evidence, or as you put it, verification, to prove my identity. Whether or not to trust me is your choice, but I can assure you that anyone else who finds you in this area won't be as forgiving."

"I don't know about you, Ms. Witch, but I most certainly don't feel like being arrested any time soon." Max's words were muttered, but clearly audible, for the auburn-haired lady turned to face him, giving him a sly smile.

"Brave words, don't you think? And this is coming from a mere teen who couldn't even make a proper landing, and had to be cushioned by yours truly, no?" As if to prove a point, Blaise subtly puffed out her chest. "And I'd also like to add that you took full advantage of my assets, tsk tsk."

Max sputtered, but no coherent sentence was formed.

She chuckled. "Come on, let's go already." _Blaise's grip really was deceptively strong,_ Max thought to himself as he was shoved back out, and pushed to keep up with the man and his Ampharos. Being in front, however, the black-haired teen failed to notice the small smile playing on the witch's lips.

They had been walking for some more time before conversation was struck up again. "If I remember right, the Victory Road used to only be passable if your Pokémon had Strength?" Blaise questioned from her position at the rear of their little ragtag trio, Lundstrom floating in the air next to her. "What happened to all the movable boulders?"

"Yes, well…" Their newly self-affirmed guide paused in his speech to take a left turn, before continuing. "Strictly speaking, we abolished that, because it would be far too much of a stretch to assume that every single one of the contestants would bring a Pokémon with the move Strength."

 _That was totally a ploy to buy time, just so he could think of an answer._ Max sighed. "Tell me we're reaching the Indigo Plateau soon, wherever it is?" If we haven't, I swear I'm gonna break something.

 _"Max, we're reaching the Indigo Plateau soon, wherever it is."_ Butterfree deadpanned, earning a few snickers from both the glowing Ampere and Lundstrom. _"What? He asked for it- oh, right. He can't understand me."_

"Actually, we should be there right about…now." This last was said with a flourish, and a rather triumphant air.

A few meters ahead lay the exit to the Victory Road; a doorway cut in the rock, beams of light streaming through and giving light to this part of the tunnel.

"Ladies first." The blond man waved a hand, "After all, I have no doubt that at least one person is waiting right there, on the other end, for your arrival."

Blaise raised an eyebrow, but it was with an upward quirk of her lips that she stepped through the doorway, Lundstrom close behind her. "It wouldn't happen to be a certain announcer, would it?"

To say that Max was confused would have been the understatement of the year. "What?"

"Well then, you next. I look forward to seeing your performance, boy." With the barest hint of a smile on his face, the man turned to leave with a wave - just as Ampere suddenly shoved the black-haired teen through the opening of the tunnel.

The teen's strangled screams were abruptly cut short.

"Well, that was certainly a chore." The man sighed, running a hand through his honey-blond hair, as his partner caught up to him with just a few running steps. "What did you think of those two, Ampere?"

 _"Amp. Ampharos."_ was the reply, accompanied by a small shake of the Pokémon's head. Really, Ampere didn't know why he still bothered trying to communicate with his 'chill pill' of a trainer. _"The Chandelure and his lady may prove to be bothersome, but the boy… unsure at the current moment."_

Nodding just as if he understood whatever Ampere had just said, the man made his way back to the restricted area. The enforcers on patrol saluted him as he passed, but he paid them no heed, deep in his own thoughts.

The yellow light flickered, before melding with a cold blue light to form a turquoise shade reminiscent of the raging sea. _"Ampharos."_

Jolted out of his reverie by Ampere's low cry, the man was acutely aware of another presence in the tunnel. "Who's there?" He asked, a hint of steel in his tone - a subtle warning.

But it was one that the other presence seemed not inclined to heed, or perhaps it was just simply ignored. "Wandering the tunnels again, Samuel?" was the laugh from the other, even as the blue torch was turned off, once again casting the tunnel in a warm yellow glow. "One would think that you'd be so sick of the Victory Road after eight years, that you actually would be trying to get out, but I guess not."

Samuel chuckled. "Tunnels and caves have always been a fascination of mine. I presume you'll be observing the tournament as well, then?" His knowing dark brown gaze fixed on the other man, and was graced with a chuckle and that ever so familiar smile - that admittedly, looked more like a half-smirk.

"Naturally. Enoch wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I did anything but." Both men laughed at that, the inside joke obscure to all but them.

"See you around, then. And Samuel?" The other man paused mid-sentence, before tossing the torch to the blond, who caught it with what was almost absurd ease. "Try not to injure the challengers too badly."

Samuel laughed, leaving the tunnels for his intended destination only after the other man had gone. "As you so wish, it shall be done… Champion."

The tunnel was once again cast into darkness, the remaining light source having finally gone out, as the Ampharos followed his trainer out the tunnels and into a different section of the Indigo Plateau.

Just outside the restricted zone, his path now lighted by a burning spear, a man with piercing emerald green irises dashed through the tunnel, dark blue hair messed by the force of the air currents against his run. _It's time to get this show on the road._

* * *

 _That was… embarrassing, to say the least._ Max would have cursed, but honestly, he was too busy trying not to die.

Thankfully, the fall - which really wasn't quite a fall at all - ended with him landing on his feet. Really though, it was just as well that he hadn't landed on Blaise for a second time; the black-haired teen didn't think he could live through the teasing.

"What took you so long?" Aforementioned witch chuckled, all the while playing with Lundstrom's ghostly flames. "I was beginning to tire of waiting."

Max huffed. "No one said that you were obliged to wait for me, you know." He took off, walking down the path that would lead to the Indigo Plateau. _I'm just amazed that this isn't a yellow brick road, and hopefully, it stays that way._

Butterfree snickered, flapping her wings just a little faster in order to keep up with the brisk pace set by Max.

"Someone's a little touchy, it would seem." Blaise and Lundstrom too followed after the black-haired teen, easily keeping up with the duo with minimal effort. "Come to think of it, what happened to 'ladies first'?"

 _"You **did** get us lost last time, little Miss Know-it-all."_ Butterfree would have rolled her eyes, but in the end, decided not to. Lundstrom's reaction was plainly clear to see, though, even without the aid of her compound eyes _. "Please. If you haven't yet gotten a name, how about naming yourself the Queen of Sass?"_

 _"I should think not,"_ was the prim reply, and that was the end of the discussion.

Meanwhile, the discussion between Max and Blaise too had whittled down, eventually coming to a stop at about the same time. The atmosphere, while not as tense, was still thick with anticipation, as well as what seemed to be worry, and to a lesser extent, fear.

"..."

"How can you still be smiling at a time like this?" It was Max who finally broke the silence, turning his hazel gaze to the auburn-haired lady beside him. "Just who are you, anyway, to be able to enter so confidently, Wax Witch?"

A chuckle was his only reply, for they had reached the entrance to the Plateau. Pressing a finger to her lips in the universal gesture for ' _shush_ ', Blaise pushed open the elaborate iron-wrought gates.

"Oh, thank Arceus, finally! I'd just about gotten tired of waiting for someone to arrive-"

The first thing Max noticed was the fuchsia-coloured gaze that seemed to bore into him.

"-and I was pacing back and forth so much my soles were beginning to wear thin but luckily I got a brand new pair from a shop out front but they were selling at twice the usual price-"

Well, them - the black-haired man kept looking back and forth between him and Blaise, jabbering away at a mile a minute, which was getting really hard to keep up with.

"-but hey, the shopkeeper was insistent and she even gave me a kiss on the way out-"

"I'm beginning to wonder if he's dumb, or if he's just plain dumb." Resisting the urge to facepalm, Max sneaked a glance at Blaise, who actually seemed to be mildly amused by the long speech - if it could even be called that.

"He's apparently always like this, especially when he's hosting." She informed. A small, subtle jerk of her head also hinted at the fact that the black-haired man's spiel was about to end.

"-one thing led to another and now, here I am!" Finally done, the man took a deep breath, before resuming his smile. "Max Rogers. Blaise Candeloro. It's my absolute pleasure to welcome you to the Tournament at long last!"

The last comment caught him by complete surprise. _How did he know my name?_

"Well, Max Rogers," the man continued with a knowing smirk. "I happen to be the official interviewer and announcer for the Tournament itself - seriously, didn't any of you watch me on TV?"

"I don't believe the forest has any reception, let alone electricity." Max deadpanned back.

"Ah...right. You're that guy." The man shrugged, twirling a finger through his raven hair. "Well, then a short re-introduction is in order. It's all smiles for miles here with me, Miles Fletcher! I just turned twenty a while ago, my favourite colour is opalescence-"

And just like that, he began another long spiel. So much for 'short'.

"-and I'm single, ready to mingle!" Miles laughed. "Not like I'll be going the extra mile to find anyone to date so soon, unless any of the female contestants feel like getting a little extra attention in the spotlight."

He winked at Blaise during that last one. "If you know what I mean."

She giggled. "Sorry, loverboy, but I'm gonna pass. Play with this fire, and you'll get burned."

"Oh, that won't be a problem...In any case, will you both step aside for a bit - at least before you meet the other contestants, that is, now?" Not waiting for an answer, Miles led the way to a small tent set up a little ways away from the castle entrance.

 _...please tell me we're not in trouble?_ Max grimaced, heart sinking at the prospects of being banished from the region. Why did today have to be so calamitous again?

The large tent was entirely white, both inside and out. Inside it, however, an entire studio had been set up - from filming equipment to wardrobe, everything was present and accounted for. People were milling about, checking and double-checking equipment, or simply grabbing a bite to eat.

 _Well_ , Max supposed, _no one ever said that a life in the media industry was easy._

"So, who would like to go first?" was the question from the black-haired announcer, to which Blaise immediately pointed at Max with a small smile. "I volunteer him as tribute."

"Wait, excuse me?" Needless to say, said tribute was absolutely perplexed - but the damage had already been done. "N-No, I mean, ladies first-"

"You're excused." With a wink, both lady and Chandelure promptly left the tent, a trail of molten wax in their wake - no doubt just to rub it in.

A chuckle was heard, before it became full-blown laughter. "You seem to have trouble believing that _that_ just happened." Miles wiped away a single solitary tear from laughing too hard.

"Yes, well…" Max muttered, "I'm usually the one being witty."

 _"You've lost your touch, Max."_ Butterfree 'tsk'd, but it was with laughter that she did so.

Motioning for the boy and his bug to take one of the armchairs that were situated in front of a few cameras, he signalled to someone out of Max's view. Once he was satisfied, he took the adjacent armchair, settling himself comfortably on the plush seats.

"So, just to confirm it once more," Miles asked, arranging a small stack of papers in his hands. "Your name is Max Rogers, yes?"

Max sighed. "Yes, and if I may ask, since you already know my name, just where are you going with this?"

"Simple. I'm going to ask you questions, and you're gonna give me answers. Got it? Ready, set," he snapped his fingers. "Action!"

Composing himself, Miles waved to the camera as background music began to play. "Gooooooood evening, ladies and gentlemen! It's all smiles for miles with me, your host, Miles! I'm coming to you live from the Indigo Plateau, home to the Pokémon League, and the location for our very next Tournament! Joining me today is a very special guest - he's a participant of the Tournament and has camped out in the forest like a wild animal for goodness knows how long-"

 _If I was supposed to do something stupid like smile and wave, I'd sooner run out of the tent - and maybe Kanto itself-_

"Please give a warm welcome to Max Rogers!" At the announcement, canned applause was played from a speaker, before cutting off.

"Wait, what?" Realising that the camera was on him, the teen stiffened. "Was I supposed to do something?"

"Smile and wave to the audience watching you, duh!" was the dreaded response.

A round of canned laughter erupted from the speakers - whoever was controlling the sound must have been having the time of their life.

"... Could we just skip that bit and move on? Like, now?" Because, dear Arceus, this definitely wasn't what he signed up for - not that he had much of a choice, given that the other option was banishment.

Miles' grin wavered ever so slightly. "Fine, have it your way, party pooper! If you don't wanna look pretty for the camera, will you at least tell them a little bit more about yourself?"

"Well, that depends… what do you want to know?" Almost as if it were involuntary, Max's tone was a little colder. Butterfree fluttered her wings a little nervously - this wasn't going to end well.

"Well, for starters, how about why the hell we had to deliver your invitation into the heart of the Viridian Forest?" There was now a noticeable edge of annoyance in his tone.

Max sighed inwardly in relief. He could answer this question rather tamely. "As I'm sure is common knowledge, there are many bug-type pokemon in the forest. Generally, I like to spend time with them - it's also how I met Butterfree here." A fond smile tugged at his lips as he stroked his companion's wings.

"I see - how long have you had this Butterfree, then? I assume he or she will be your selected Pokémon for the Tournament." And just like that, the annoyance had disappeared. How odd.

" _She_ has been with me ever since I was 8." Max stated, but it was with a challenging smile that his next sentence was spoken. "I don't suppose there's anything wrong with choosing her as my partner?"

"Ooooh, touchy." Another knowing smirk. "Well, I certainly bid you and your Butterfree the best of luck. Do you have anything to say to the audience watching you now? Perhaps, something that will get more people to root for you both?"

Max glanced at Butterfree, who seemed not to care about the question. And for good reason too, because why would she? It wasn't as if the audience would affect their battling capabilities. "Well, I guess I do have to give thanks to everyone watching and supporting the tournament. Also, if any contestants out there who are looking down on Butterfree just because she's a bug-type, then all I really have to say is this: get ready to _lose_."

"Strong words - I wonder how everyone else in the competition will take your declarations, huh? Anyways, that was Max Rogers, so be sure to look out for him in the Tournament! Until next time," the man made finger guns at the camera. "This is Miles Fletcher, signing out!"

The sound of a marker. "Cut!"

Dropping the handsigns, Miles turned to Max. "Okay, that's a wrap for you, so just go find your room at the Main Building or something. For now, I recommend taking a stroll around the facilities we have to offer - we're not starting until everyone arrives, after all. Cheerio!"

With an afterthought, he added, "And send Blaise in on your way out too!"

Surprisingly, Blaise was already waiting when he exited the tent. She stood a few meters away, not close enough to overhear, but definitely not that far away either. It was Lundstrom who first noticed him, however, and notified his lady with a single word.

"Well, my turn, I guess." Standing up, Blaise motioned for Lundstrom to follow her into the tent. "I look forward to seeing you around, Max."

It had been the first time she'd addressed him by name.

He stood there a little longer after she had left, pondering about just why the eccentricities of life had landed him here.

"We should actually be going," Butterfree sighed. She would actually push her trainer to the gathering in the main hall of the castle, but knowing Max, it would probably backfire.

Still, she nudged him a little with a wing, and was rewarded with a pat on the head. "Yeah, I got it. Let's go."

 _Guess today isn't going as badly...At least I'm one step closer to finding **him**._

The duo made their way to the huge double doors that were the entrance to the castle. Taking a deep breath, Max pushed open the doors-

"Get out of the way!"

And was instantly slammed into the ground by a pole.

 _Har har, coincidence. Very funny,_ was all he could think before he lost consciousness.

* * *

 **Characters** :

Max Rogers and Butterfree (Butterfree) - _blazelight790_

Blaise Candeloro and Lundstrom (Chandelure) - _Arcana of the True Self_

Samuel Troy and Ampere (Ampharos) - _Imagination Heaven_

Miles Fletcher and ? - _SDproductions_

 **The Champion** : ? and ? - _?_

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _If your name is present on the list below:_

 ** _SDproductions_**

 ** _emosewa-13_**

 ** _Arcana of the True Self_**

 ** _HeroineOfDarkness_**

 ** _Penumbro_**

 ** _WereDragon EX_**

 ** _MikeV1_**

 ** _Wolfang1011_**

 ** _maycontestdrew_**

 ** _blazelight790_**

 ** _Revolution921_**

 ** _W. R. Winters_**

 ** _Another Generic Gamer_**

 ** _MetaRaven135_**

 ** _Imagination Heaven_**

 _Then congratulations! Your OCs have survived the dangerous selection process - actually, it's not dangerous at all, but okay, who cares? :3c Everyone will play a role in this story, definitely; and while I can't promise everyone will have a big role, they will make and leave an impact._

 _Probably._

 _Also, congrats to **blazelight790** \- Max kick-starts this story as our current protagonist. Naturally, this is not to say that he raises a few death flags - most definitely not. Wait, what do you mean, you don't trust me? O A O_

 _We're still in the introductory stage, though, so the next few chapters will probably be just that. Frankly speaking, I debated showcasing all the current submissions in this chapter, but hey, what do you know, this isn't Danganronpa. O W O_

 _Just for fun, here's a snippet of conversation between SD and myself:_

 _ **SDproductions** \- Saturday, 4.13pm Also, our protagonists are people whose first two letters of their name are 'Ma'. Fun._

 _ **Sky** \- Saturday, 4.14pm Also, three-letter name protagonists._

 _I assure you, this was purely coincidence. Totally. Check out Phantom's Crown Crusade (his fic) if you don't believe me._

 _(Actually, go check it out please? You'll make this nonprofit beta reader very happy, haha - SD)_

 _In any case, once again, I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter - and also, a gentle reminder that this story is still accepting OCs, so if you wish to submit one, the roster still has slots for you._

 _See you next chapter! (O u O)/_

 _Next time on Crossroads:_ ** _Flame On._**


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N:_

 _Beware - overly-hyped author on a sugar high at midnight. And also multiple days._

 _Also, the playlist for this chapter was really rather depressing, and almost entirely comprised of RWBY songs - but you ain't seen nothing yet._

 _Review replies:_

 _ **SDproductions** \- A belated Happy New Year to you too. O u O Thanks for all the help._

 _ **maycontestdrew** \- I'm glad I could amuse. O w O Samuel wouldn't exactly mind such a nickname, but seriously? Ampharos man? Miles is definitely obnoxious, no worries. O u O Also, secrets. Crossroads wouldn't be as fun if the characters weren't so mysterious - and I dare say Butterfree is out to change that. Thumbs up for the sassy bug!_

 _ **Wolfang1011** \- Amadeus, I hereby present you with the booster pack of OCs. :3c_

 _ **W. R. Winters** \- I thank you for your kind anticipation, but alas, his appearance was not meant to be - at least, not yet._

 _ **blazelight790** \- Nah, thank you for submitting such a great character. Also, you really should trust me a little more. Miles is SD's department, but I agree that Blaise and Samuel should be on the watch list. :3c_

 _ **HeroineOfDarkness** \- Heyo, Hero! I do hope that this chapter was everything you didn't expect :3c_

 _ **MetaRaven135** \- [inserts generic acceptance of generic praise here] Bias is totally okay, shh. It's not as if we all don't favor our characters to some extent. Also, what misdirection? Totally not that, no._

 _ **emosewa-13** \- Hahahahaha- it took quite some time actually. Also, Lundstrom and Wisp should be a thing, yes. Awesome Chandelures._

 _(HOLY my poor child. Never let them meet ever yes. NEVER - **Arcana of the True Self** )_

 _Moving on. Blaise is amazing, yes. Pretty, yes. Sassy, yes. Basically, Blaise is the waifu - at least, for now. Max's little hermit issue, well, no comment. :3c You'll see it first (or second) anyway. And also, it's the Champion's turn to play hermit, but the gang will be together… eventually._

 _ **MikeV1** \- Blaise is perfect to kick things off, if only because I can ensure that Max lives a little longer… O w O_

 _ **WereDragon EX** \- This chapter doesn't have much of Blaise or Samuel, unfortunately, but there's Pokémon… :"3_

 _Okay, that's that, let's move on. Or rather..._

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **Flame On**

 **(not ft. The Human Torch)**

* * *

His head hurt, and right now, everything else did too. Ugh… where am I?

"Are you alright?"

"That has to be the stupidest question I've ever heard, and I've heard some really bad ones, especially from blondes. Does he look alright to you?"

Max forced open his heavy eyelids, resisting the urge to immediately wrench them shut from the light. "What…"

Titian hair colored his vision, and he caught a glimpse of reddish-brown irises before the other backed away, most likely to allow him some breathing room. "You most likely have at least a mild concussion, seeing as you were hit pretty hard by-"

"That was _not_ my fault," interjected the other person. An emerald green gaze met the black-haired teen's own for a few moments before the other looked away, dark blue locks shifting as he turned his head. "Fine, it was my spear that hit you, but if _his_ Rapidash hadn't been going so Arceus damned fast, then-"

The man with titian hair sighed. "Helios is a _Rapidash_. Expecting him to go slow is, while possible, quite frankly an insult."

Clearing his throat, Max managed to get the attention of the other two men. "Excuse me for the interruption, but just where am I?"

For the room was unfamiliar to the teen - cream colored walls with a golden chandelier, dark oak furniture and heavy velvet curtains drawn to cover the windows. A glance around showed a four-poster bed at the other end of the room, an adjacent room that was probably the bathroom, and that he was lying on a sofa - leather, by the feel of it.

Both men looked puzzled for just a bit, before the confusion cleared up.

"You're in my state room - at least, that's what I think these are called," replied the titian-haired man who glanced at his companion, a clear look of admonishment in his eyes. "I'll go report the incident - and our arrival - to whoever the official in charge is, then." It was clear he expected the other man to stay behind to look after Max, whoever he was.

"...well, that was weird." Max commented after a few seconds of silence, much to the amusement of the blue-haired man, who snorted in response. "You don't say, kid."

A thought occurred to him. "Hang on, you were responsible for hitting me?"

"Guilty as charged." A nervous chuckle. "To be fair, I thought you would have ducked."

Max was suitably unimpressed. "Gee, what gave you that idea, mister...?" His voice trailed off.

"Well," came the quiet huff and a subtle roll of green eyes. "I did yell at you from the gates, no?"

"The gates? But how could you have-" _Right. It was the Rapidash, wasn't it?_

Almost as if he had heard the continuation of the question, the blue-haired man laughed. "See? I told you it was the Rapidash."

This statement earned a small chuckle from the black-haired teen. "Point acknowledged, I guess. Also, just who are you?"

"Ah, I never did introduce myself, did I?" The blue-haired man questioned no one in particular, but earned a slow nod from Max all the same. He chuckled.

"The name's Carl Damien Ericsson. People usually call me **The Burning Lance** , however."

... _right_. Max raised an eyebrow, skeptical of just how truthful that introduction was. "So, your lance knocked me out." _And how do I not have a hole poked in my head by now?_

Carl looked mildly sheepish, to his credit - or not. "Well, it wasn't quite like that."

"And 'burning' to boot," Max continued, now on a roll. "I'm actually surprised I wasn't burned to a crisp."

A sigh. "You should thank your lucky stars that it wasn't lighted up, or you'd actually have been burnt."

"Yes, well, at least you didn't burn Butterfree," Max huffed. "If you had, no offense, I'd probably be-"

It then occurred to him just what exactly was missing. Or rather, just _who_ was missing. "Wait, where's Butterfree?!"

"Oh, we left your bug with the other Pokémon," comes the causal reply. "Budge up there on the sofa, won't you?"

Accordingly shifting to make some room for the other man, Max shook his head in confusion. "What do you mean, the other Pokémon?"

Curious emerald eyes fix on him, and the teen stiffened, knowing that he was being judged, being seized up - and if the other man deemed him dangerous, he would be taken out at the first opportunity.

Of course, if he were too weak, the same could be applied.

"There's a garden where you can leave your Pokémon." Carl replies as he takes a seat, reaching behind the sofa to pull out what looked like a spear. "I think it's just so we can't brawl until everyone arrives, but hey, that's just plain paranoia."

It's probably for the best. Max mused, "So, I don't suppose you've confiscated my bow and arrows as well."

Another snort of laughter. "I wish. They're behind the sofa; didn't know if it was safe to leave them on the desk, seeing as this is the room of whoever that guy is."

Nodding absently, the teen realised something really wrong with the sentence. "You mean… you don't know his name?"

Carl shrugged. "He nearly knocked me down while in the tunnels. Can't blame him though, riding like a freight train from hell at those kinds of speeds, especially without a light source…"

"And?" _Please get to the point._

"Well, he offered me a lift by way of apology. So I took it, and then we barrelled into you." A roguish grin crossed Carl's face, before he leapt to his feet. "So, now that you're awake and all, by way of apology, how about I show you around the place?"

"You've already had time to explore?" Max asked, incredulous. _Just how long was I out?_

"Unfortunately, no. I was here the whole time, watching over a certain genderbend of Sleeping Beauty." Carl smiled, but in all honesty, it looked more like a half-smirk. "Though it shouldn't be all that difficult to roam around, no?"

Max pinched his nose, beginning to feel the onslaught of the incoming exasperation. "Alright, let's just go."

"That's the spirit, kid." Shooting him a thumbs-up, Carl walked to the door, spear gripped loosely in hand.

Sighing, Max got off the sofa, leaning over to pick up his bow and arrow as he did so. Why do I always get into the weirdest situations again?

"Go where, if I may ask?" The door opened, revealing none other than Miles Fletcher, announcer extraordinaire. Fuchsia orbs bored into emerald and hazel pairs, but it was with a careless grin that the black-haired man stepped into the room.

The growling of two stomachs echoed. "To the buffet line, duh."

"Well, I'm afraid the buffet will simply have to wait." was the simple and curt reply, with a smile so bright that it practically heralded someone's doom.

* * *

 _"Remind me again, just who are you?"_ Taking to the air, Butterfree glanced down at the orange dog-like Pokémon.

 _"I believe this is the hundredth time I am reminding you of the fact that I have a name, and that it's Yeager."_ Aforementioned Arcanine sighed, having had enough of the silly Butterfree. Just where was everyone else again?

 _"Yeager, Eren, it's all the same to me,"_ the Butterfree scoffed. _"I don't have a name, and you don't see me complaining about it, do you? You're just another Arcanine."_

 _"And you have a rather foul mouth, admittedly one that your trainer should very well be complaining about."_ Yeager growled, rather vexed with just about everyone right about now. He didn't have to take this shit from anyone, least of all an unnamed bug without manners. _"Now, please leave and find another poor unfortunate soul to harass."_

Without waiting for an answer, the dog turned his head and left, leaving the butterfly hovering in the air by herself.

 _"How rude."_ Butterfree grumbled, _"But then again, he is a dog…"_

The faint sounds of training reached her; curious, the bug decided to go explore the garden. There wasn't much else she could do in any case, seeing how she didn't know her way around the place.

She could always go look for Max, but the other two men who took him to get his injury treated said clearly to stay here. They weren't Max, though, so she didn't have to follow orders - but it would be easier for Max to find her later, she reasoned.

Ah well. Exploring the garden it is, then.

Taking in the world around her with her compound eyes was one thing, but trying to do that and chase down an elusive Pokémon currently training was apparently more difficult than it sounded.

 _"It had better not be a Kecleon or some other Pokémon that can turn invisible."_ The Butterfly Pokémon muttered, annoyed with her current progress - or rather, the lack thereof. _"I'd hate to find out that I went right past it due to its invisibility - such an annoying ability, that one."_

Well, in all honesty, it was probably only annoying because it hampered her from achieving her objective; that was to say, to find a certain training-

 _"GRAAAAAAAGH!"_

She wasn't disappointed; standing on its own in a small thicket of trees was a gigantic panda with a twig of what seemed to be bamboo in its mouth.

The Pangoro was busy in its task, that was, continuously punching trees. Unfortunately, it took merely a few hits to bring a single tree crashing down, resulting in the need to switch trees often.

Come to think of it, Butterfree mused, the reason why the thicket of trees was so small was without a doubt the Pangoro. Highly destructive, and definitely lethal.

 _"Stop staring, or I'll punch the living daylights out of you."_

Now, that actually was a rather scary threat. Thankfully, it hadn't been directed at her-

 _"I said, stop staring, or I'll punch the living daylights out of you!"_

Wait. It had been directed at her.

Oops.

 _"Calm down, hothead. I'm not here to fight."_ Okay, maybe that had not been the smartest choice of words to use. Hell, Butterfree was sure she could see the angry tick marks on the Pangoro's head.

 _"Why you little-!"_ Snorting, the Pangoro turned away from the tree to glare at her. _"Puny weaklings like you should just keep your nose out of others' businesses. Unless, of course, you want your entire self rearranged."_

The menacing crack of knuckles could be heard - no doubt a show of dominance, if only to prove that the other could very well back up his words.

 _"Just like your mother did to you when you were born?"_

An engaged roar was her only warning before a fist shot right at her from below, in a classic move she recognised as-

 _"Sky Uppercut? Really?"_ The Butterfree questioned, having dodged the attack - perhaps not quite with relative ease - and was now hovering just a little out of arm's reach. _"Could you not have gone for something better?"_

 _"Oh yeah?"_ was the quick reply, _"I don't see you attacking back any time soon. Do you only have as many brain cells as your_ _eyes?"_

A light chuckle was all he could manage before he had to cover his ears - the Bug Buzz that Butterfree started to emit was the cause for that.

His eyes were still alert, and when the butterfly ended her attack, he went back on the offensive with another round of Sky Uppercuts. It definitely wasn't the most effective means of attack, but it was his best shot, considering the rest of his moveset.

Evidently, the Butterfree caught on, as she flew high enough that he could only reach her by jumping.

So he did just that - jump. His fist collided with her head, making her spray out some sort of powder. Unfortunately, due to his momentum, he could not help but be covered in said Sleep Powder, and his consciousness left him.

It returned moments later when the floor caught up with his face.

Shrugging the stars off from around his face, he immediately sensed danger, and sidestepped the overhead Supersonic. Realising that he couldn't win against her head-on, he decided to adopt a more underhanded approach.

 _"Roses are red, violets are blue! I have three fingers-"_

He flipped the Butterfree the bird. " _And this one's for you!"_

Amazingly enough, it worked - the Taunt took effect, and the Butterfree's eyes narrowed; partly out of frustration that her options were now limited, but mostly because she was starting to get seriously annoyed.

It was time to fight back.

An orb of swirling darkness formed before her, gathering mass and power in a matter of mere seconds, before it was launched at the opponent.

The Pangoro, however, had no trouble meeting the incoming Shadow Ball with a Sky Uppercut, successfully diverting its trajectory to somewhere in the distance. His mind, however, was racing, putting together a plan of attack that would allow him to swiftly and thoroughly crush the irritating bug before him.

His chance came in the form of the next attack - a volley of Shadow Balls. Expecting him to knock them away, or even dodge backward, the Butterfree had come slightly closer, and the precious few seconds she took to charge up each attack would serve him well.

A dark smile could be seen, before the Pangoro leapt into the air, narrowly avoiding the volley of balls. The Butterfly Pokemon hurriedly flew away, but it wasn't quite enough to escape his reach. His jaws opened wide in a triumphant roar-

And he hit her with a Sky Uppercut. And another. And another - as many as he could hit her with in his limited air time.

Pain wrecked through her body as Butterfree tried to flap her wings, well aware that she was falling to the ground, that the Pangoro had once again jumped, and was coming right at her with another flurry of Sky Uppercuts.

She couldn't gain enough height - this was it. This was the end.

Just as his fist was going to knock her out for good-

 _"Metronome!"_

The unknown female voice paused for a second, before announcing, _"Moonblast!"_

The Pangoro only had enough time to turn around before the ball of pink energy slammed into him full-force, enveloping him in a bright light.

Clearly, as strong as the Daunting Pokémon was, the Fairy-type move was anathema to him, and he fell to the ground in a twitching heap.

Pushing himself onto one knee, he winced. The sudden attack had taken the wind out of him, and his mind was somewhat addled. He couldn't give up though, because it would be a daunting blow to his ego, and-

"Break-Neck."

The name came in the form of a statement and not a question, the tone not quite authoritarian, but not exactly kind and gentle, either.

Turning around, Butterfree spotted a young woman - judging from the way the Pangoro's gaze flickered and landed on her, she was most likely his trainer.

"Let's go." Despite waiting for the Daunting Pokémon to walk over to her - which he did immediately as soon as he recognized her - she took off immediately after, giving no indication that she had seen the other two. The Pangoro followed, though not without shooting the Butterfree a glare.

 _"Rude. Just like that oversized panda."_ Butterfree huffed, but felt sure that she would remember that cold blue gaze.

Eyes were the mirrors to one's soul, after all, and the gaze of that lady spoke volumes.

 _"I don't think you can judge someone, by something trivial as their eyes...I have a Zubat friend who would...take offense to that err in thought."_

The eyes of this next one, however...She didn't know what to make of them.

The pink, star-shaped body and darker-pink wings were a dead giveaway that the newcomer (and her saviour, she grudgingly admitted) was a Clefable, but there was something off about her gaze - there appeared to be grey specks of colour dotted about her otherwise black eyes, giving her an unfocused and dreamy look.

She walked forward, holding up a hand with three fingers. _"We have not yet met...or have we? Nevertheless, Rosalina - it's a pleasure to meet you, miss...all over again, if need be."_

 _Holy. Arceus. What._ She would have taken a step back, but that isn't quite possible in the air. _"Did you just…?"_

 _Did every single phrase contain just eight syllables, or what?!_

 _"If I'm weirding you out, I could...always refrain from my habits."_

 _"No no no, it's okay."_ Butterfree hastily shook her head, wings fluttering a little anxiously. _"It just… takes some time getting used to it."_

 _"Ah, I see, but there's no need to…"_ she smiled serenely. _"Imitate my way of speech, thanks."_

 _Egads, I'm doing it as well?!_ Unfortunately, the poor bug didn't have hands, so she did the next best thing - drive her face into the grass.

Just kidding.

Although, the Butterfree did feel like facepalming. _"That was unintentional, I'm really sorry about doing that."_ Straight, clear and definitely over eight syllables.

Thank Arceus.

 _"Anyways, thank you again, I guess. I'll just be leaving now. Goodbye."_ she continued, waving a small hand in farewell.

 _"I shall be seeing you around. Take care, Rin of the Butterfree."_ she waved a hand in goodbye, but the butterfly was already speeding out of there, the wind beneath her wings.

 _HOW DOES SHE KNOW MY REAL BIRTHNAME?!_

The shock and adrenaline wore off after a while, but the Butterfree didn't stop until she was certain she had put enough distance between herself and Rosalina.

Slowing to a hover, it was then that the bug realised she was now well and truly lost. No doubt she could find her way if she just flew higher, but for now… Well, there was more time to explore, she figured.

The statues were many, in this part of the garden - some larger than life, others smaller, but still incredibly life-like.

 _"I can most certainly see why this place is called the Pokémon Garden."_ Butterfree commented dryly to herself, hovering between two huge statues of a winged dragon she identified as a Charizard - one black, one orange. _"Though I must say, the orange one still looks better."_

 _"And that's because the orange one is the real deal - that is, yours truly."_ is the snort, before the Charizard stood up, stretching its wings to their fullest - narrowly missing taking off the statue's head in the process. _"Eh, stupid statue was in the way."_

 _"That's only because of your gigantesque self, unfortunately."_ is the cold statement, even as a humanoid Pokémon in a kimono stepped out from the shadow of the very same statue.

Surrounded by a cold wind and a faint mist that Butterfree's compound eyes discerned as many tiny crystals of ice, the Froslass smiled at the Flame Pokémon, but it was not without a hint of amusement - on whose expense, no one knew.

The Charizard roared- thankfully, the little gurgle of flame was held back, with nothing and no one getting burnt in the process. _"Are you actually serious?_ "

Ignoring the little nod from the Snow Land Pokémon, the Charizard continued his little tirade. _"Being of such magnificent size is something to be proud of! Humans clearly recognize that fact, why else would they have erected a statue of Charizard-kind?"_

 _Ahem._ Butterfree couldn't help it, and laughed. Pride always comes before a fall, and she intended for this one to be swiftly served. Revenge was also a dish best served cold, and while she didn't bear any grudges against this Charizard, ignorance was a crime too great to go ignored.

She was also sure the Froslass would happily jump on the bandwagon.

 _"There's writing on the pedestal."_ Something which Butterfree was sure the Charizard had not read, given that it was way below his eye level.

And as expected, the bait was taken - hook, line and sinker. _"Oh? Read it out loud, won't you, little bug?"_

 _"I'll do it,"_ Froslass volunteered, a slow smile spreading across her face as she gave Butterfree an acknowledging nod - merely a slight tilt of the head, but the meaning was there.

 _"This statue is erected in honor of Nikos, partner to Champion Rowan Fall of year XXXX."_

A silence fell over the odd little group as they contemplated - or rather, the Charizard contemplated - the inscription on the statue's pedestal.

 _"... Oh."_

 _"So, what was that about the magnificent glory of Charizard-kind again?"_ Butterfree just couldn't resist rubbing it in, but to his credit, the orange dragon didn't fall for it. With a loud sigh, the Charizard got to its feet. _"Nice try, but no. See you around - or maybe not."_

With that parting line, it took off into the skies, leaving behind a pair of grinning Pokémon.

 _"So, what now?"_ Butterfree asked, glancing at the Froslass, who simply shrugged. _"There's nothing in the garden except plants, these statues, more plants, a fountain, and did I mention plants?"_

 _"You mentioned it thrice, yes."_ was the deadpan response, and both Pokémon stared at each other for a few moments, before breaking into peals of laughter.

 _"So,"_ Butterfree smiled, settling down on the base of the statue. _"Care to explain why you're here? I'd have thought you would rather be at the fountain."_

Froslass sniffed, tone colored with disdain. _"There's a gathering of a particularly irritating type of Pokémon over there - no doubt that proud Charizard went to join them for better company."_

 _"Flying Pokémon?"_ was the question, but the answer was a slow shake of the head. _"No. Fire Pokémon."_

 _Now it all makes sense._ Butterfree chuckled, having finally understood the Snow Land Pokémon's reluctance to head to the fountain.

 _"Yes, yes, go ahead and laugh."_ Said Froslass replied dryly. _"I'm well aware that it's perfectly irrational, but better safe than sorry."_

 _"But you can always put out their fire with the fountain's water, no?"_ Surely that would be alright, wouldn't it? After all, water triumphed fire.

 _"I don't fancy my chances in a one against multiple battle."_

Well, that was a simple and far more reasonable response. Butterfree almost felt ashamed - but only for the briefest of moments.

Her antennae twitched. She could have sworn she just heard Max's voice.

When questioned, though, Froslass didn't seem to have heard it. _"Are you quite sure that you aren't hallucinating?"_

 _"Nope,"_ she replied, popping the 'p' much like a child would have done. _"I don't think I've ever hallucinated - and there's no reason for me to, is there?"_

 _"I suppose not, yes."_ came the grudging acknowledgment. Silence reigned for a few more moments, before the call was heard again - this time much closer, and definitely audible to both Pokémon.

 _"Butterfree?"_ was the yell, and with a start, she recognised Max's voice - it hadn't been a hallucination after all.

 _"I'm here!"_ She yelled back, as loudly as she could, before flapping harder in an attempt to speed up.

 _"I guess this is where we part ways, then."_ Froslass commented, bidding a quiet farewell before vanishing behind a particularly large statue. The faint mist left with her, even as the odd breeze stopped blowing.

Still, the Butterfly Pokémon paid no heed as she raced toward her partner - perhaps not quite at speeds a bird could reach, but most definitely at her top speed. _"Max!"_

The black-haired teen met her with open arms, foregoing the hug for patting instead. "It took too long to find you; were you exploring the place?"

She nodded, knowing that he wouldn't understand even if she detailed it all, but choosing to let him know that she too, had adventures of her own all the same.

In a way, she was just happy to be reunited with him, and she knew with certainty that it was the same for him.

"Well then, shall we?" It was the man with brownish hair, colored with a tint of red. Beside him stood a snow white unicorn, his mane and tail burning red-hot flames - no doubt, it was a Rapidash.

More like, _the_ Rapidash.

It did cause Max to get hit, after all.

Butterfree glared it, clearly letting her opinions on reckless Pokémon who injure the trainer of another be known, but to her great surprise, she was ignored.

She, Rin of the Butterfree, the sassiest to ever roam the planet, was ignored.

And by a mere flame horse to boot.

 _How dare he!_

Ignorant of his fuming partner, it was with a smile on his face that Max gestured for Butterfree to stay by his side as they left the garden. "Yeah, let's go."

* * *

"So, Atlas, you seem very familiar with this place." Max wasn't trying to pry, really, but somehow, being next to someone who knew so much made him feel like he probably missed the guidebook handing out session.

A quiet chuckle. "Well, I do like to do my research." Running a hand through Titian-coloured locks, the man nudged Rapidash, who came to a halt. "Down this wing is the library, or at least, that's according to Miles."

 _Miles? The long-winded announcer guy?_ His bemusement must have been clear, for Atlas nodded. "Yes, _that_ Miles. Believe me, I don't like the guy much either."

"How did you even get that information out from him?" Max asked, tone colored with disbelief. His own experience with the man hadn't been all that pleasant, and well, he didn't quite ask very many questions, did he?

Nah, most likely not.

Atlas laughed - the sound was rich, carefree and highly infectious. "Does the name Cross mean anything to you?"

 _Er… there aren't many crosses in the forest, capitalized or no._ Really, what was the problem with all the tournament contestants he had met so far? "Not really, no."

 _"Now where have I heard that name before… oh right, in the graveyard."_ Butterfree snickered, only to be cut short by an angry whinny.

 _"If you don't want that boy getting injured, then stop insulting every other trainer in front of their Pokémon."_ The smoldering dark glare of the Rapidash was disconcerting, making the Butterfree wonder just which spark she had to throw in order to set it aflame. _"When they come, they'll go right for him - and you won't be able to protect him then."_

 _"Just listen to your foolishness."_ She scoffed, before proceeding to ignore the Flame Horse Pokémon, who simply turned his head away.

"Then, since that's the case, I'll leave you to figure it out by yourself." was the casual reply, even as the Titian-haired man resumed walking down the hallway. "Also, there's a pool in the other wing, and a lounge right here…"

Max knew he should be paying attention to the tour, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched.

Or was it Atlas who was being watched?

In any case, the man himself was oblivious to the stares, continuing with the tour of the castle's interior with his Rapidash lighting the way.

 _Atlas… I'll have to watch out for you, and maybe even the possible target on your back._

"-thing wrong?"

"I'm sorry?" Jolted from his thoughts, the black-haired teen realised that they were at the entrance to a rather long corridor.

"I said, is something wrong?" Atlas questioned. "You seem a little distracted; are you uncomfortable with the pace, perhaps?"

"It's nothing." Max smiled, trying to allay the other's worries. "This place is just… rather large, you know?"

That reddish-brown gaze softened a little, even as the man turned to look out the window. "Indeed. I can only begin to imagine how different this must be for a boy who has camped out in the woods like a wild animal for goodness knows how long..."

"Yeah, it's a pretty jarring difference, alright." Max nodded, before the realisation hit him. "Wait, what?!"

"Miles was complaining that you were, by far, the worst party pooper on his show," by way of explanation, the man stifling a laugh as the teen swore vengeance on the obnoxious announcer.

"That being said, though," continued Atlas once his laughter had died down, "this hallway leads to the Tower."

"The tower of what?"

"The Champion." was the simple reply. "Each of the four floors above belong to an Elite, and the final floor is the Champion's Hall."

"The winner of the tournament gains the right to challenge the Tower, and if they defeat all four Elites, they get to challenge the Champion." Max continued the impromptu lesson - this he was well aware of.

In fact, this was something everyone was well aware of. After all, the Champion was basically the ruler of the region, with the Elites being his eyes, ears and hands. Who wouldn't want such power?

And if he had such power, anything would be possible.

Even if it was finding _him_.

And then, maybe… just maybe, he could put the broken pieces of their family back together.

 _"You're staring into space again, Max."_ A slight nudge from a wingtip on his cheek; with a sad smile, the teen patted his Butterfree on the head with an almost tender gentleness. "Sorry."

It wasn't as if Butterfree didn't like the attention, but she didn't want to see Max so sombre, so… sad. In fact, she didn't ever want to see him sad again - not after the last time.

 _The child was curled up at the base of the largest tree in the forest, hugging his knees close to his chest. Approaching him slowly, she could see that he'd been crying, the glittering tear tracks still obvious on his face._

 _She had to comfort him, and chose to do so by gently rubbing her head against his leg, for it was the only part of him that she could reach._

 _He smiled through the tears, reaching out to pat her head, and she let him. He could sense her worry, she knew. "I'm not going back any more, Caterpie. She doesn't want me, and I don't need a mom like her."_

She shifted awkwardly, feeling the guilt plague her. _"I'm sorry, Max..."_ Even though she promised that she wouldn't let him be sad ever again...

It just seemed like she couldn't ever keep her promises, could she?

Unaware of his partner's gloomy thoughts, Max turned to Atlas, only to find the man still staring at the window - staring _through_ the window. "Atlas?"

The man didn't respond, but his Rapidash did. Nudging his trainer's shoulder, the horse watched Atlas' jumpstart in silence, save for a twinkle in his fiery eyes.

"Sorry, what did you say?" The barest hint of regret laced the man's tone, and Max briefly wondered what the other had been thinking of. "I was just wondering if, well, there are any other places left to visit."

"Only the dining hall, but you'll be seeing that later anyway." Gesturing for Max to take his place at the window, Atlas continued his sentence, almost as if it were an afterthought. "Also… you might probably want to see this."

The window overlooked the Pokémon Garden below, and a rather peculiar scene was unfolding.

A Charizard and an Arcanine stood by their trainers, who seemed to be arguing in hushed voices. Max recognised the trainer next to the Arcanine as Carl - no doubt, that had to be his partner.

But who was the other man, and just why were they arguing?

"You see it, don't you?" is the question from Atlas, who was now standing by his side. Max stayed silent, due in part to being uncertain of a reply, but also due to knowing that the Titian-haired man was going to continue.

And continue he did. "Even before the tournament begins, they're already making their move."

Showing me this was most likely his goal the whole time. "Who's 'they'?" Max questioned, wary of the answer - yet wanting to know the truth. He couldn't let curiosity kill him, at least, not just yet.

Reddish-brown orbs met hazel ones. Atlas was absolutely serious, that much Max could tell."The L-"

"Now hold it right there, Cross!" The shout that rang through the hallways startled them both. Narrowing his gaze, the man quickly stepped away, just as an unfamiliar girl rounded the corner. "What the mint-chocolate-chip did you just say to Max here?"

"...nothing, **Winter's Breeze**." was the curt reply, before the Titian-haired man pat Max on the shoulder. "Watch your step." was the quiet statement - a warning? - before he left with his Rapidash, leaving the teen alone.

Well, with that weird girl.

"Just ignore whatever Cross said," she huffs. "He's bad through and through, unfortunately." Just as quickly, though, her expression clears, and she proceeded to greet the stunned teen with a bright smile. "Also, I'm Launa Everett, it's a real pleasure to meet you at last!"

In the face of this new candidate, Max could only nod. But inside, his mind was furiously working, trying to join the many dots he'd been shown - and the one he had not.

Had Atlas been trying to say "The League"?

"Hello? You in there? Or did my beauty stun you into silence?"

He saw it fit not to respond. Interacting with one girl was enough for the day.

Nevertheless, he spent the rest of the afternoon with Launa, who Max learnt liked puns, jokes, swimming, running, smiling, hugging others, and a whole lot more.

"I will beat the rocky road out of you for slandering Froslass!"

Apparently, she also swore only in ice-cream flavors.

Fun times.

"Come on, the dining hall's this way." Taking hold of a surprised Max's hand, the brunette led the way to aforementioned room.

 _"Is your trainer actually flirting with Max?"_ To say that Butterfree was aghast would have been an understatement. Who did this girl think she was?

Froslass sniffed dismissively, clearly equally unhappy with the situation. _"I should think not. The question should be, why isn't your trainer doing anything to stop Launa?"_

 _"...It's a long story."_ And inside the unlikely foursome went.

The dining room was large, elegant and grandiose. Actually, who even used the word 'grandiose' any more?

A large crystal chandelier hung from the arched ceiling, reflecting light off its diamond facets and brightening up the room.

The long table in the center had already been set for 27 places, but only 21 places were currently filled.

Glancing around, Max recognised some of the contestants - Carl, Charizard dude, Blaise, Miles and Atlas. The only female in that list gave him a small wink - the rest ignored him in favor of the food.

Or maybe they just didn't see him. Yeah, that was probably it.

"Nice to see that you've finally graced us with your presence, Max, Launa." The blond man from the tunnels waved at them from his seat at the immediate left of the head of the table. Max felt himself tense up a little - why would a member of the Elite Four be having dinner with the tournament candidates?

"Sorry, sorry," Launa apologized, hurriedly taking her seat.

Butterfree and Froslass made their way to the cacophony at the other end of the dining room, where noise and Pokémon alike ran amok - due mainly to several heated disagreements. Neither looked very happy about the arrangement, however, the latter due to the abundance of Fire-types, and the former-

 _"Oh, hello, welcome back, miss Rin. Would you like something hot to eat?"_

Max followed suit, taking his seat between Charizard dude and an unfamiliar person, halfway down the table. To his chagrin, the person seated directly opposite him was someone he was all too familiar with.

"Miss me?" Blaise giggled.

He made to get up, but considering that the only other free spots were next to Miles (there was a literal one empty-seat radius around the announcer), he reconsidered.

He dug into the steak with much relish - regardless of the situation and his impending doom, it was delicious, and a little luxury never killed nobody, right?

"Ah, he's here." Samuel suddenly chuckled, standing up from his seat. The double doors opened, allowing two men to enter the room - but only one of them drew all eyes.

Dressed formally in a white dress shirt, grey trousers, a matching blue tie and sweater vest along with polished black shoes, he looked every inch the cultured gentleman. The presence of a matching silver tie clip and a pair of cufflinks did little to dissuade the notion.

"And Enoch Maxwell makes his entrance into the sacred hall of food! What form of sustenance could he be looking for tod-"

One piercing glare was enough to make Miles shut up.

So that's… Enoch Maxwell. Remembering the letter, Max was somewhat awed by his presence - the fact that he had just managed to silence what had amounted to a parakeet on steroids with just a stare helped too.

Judging by the expressions of rest of the candidates, most of them too were awed.

Miles, on the other hand, wasn't looking too happy. "C'mon, let a man do his job!"

"Young Master." The second man was dressed in the attire of a typical butler - white shirt, black suit with coattails. Pulling back the chair at the immediate right of the head, he gestured for Enoch to sit. Complying, the Elite carelessly tossed a Pokeball.

In a burst of light, the two halves fell to the floor (and were promptly picked up by the butler) as an Audino landed gracefully, fixing her trainer with her composed gaze.

Enoch nodded briefly - just the one time, but it was apparently enough, for the Audino went over to join the rest of the Pokémon.

"It's rare to see you join us, Enoch." Samuel had taken his seat only after the taller, black-haired Elite had taken his.

A brief glance, before the man began to eat, his cutlery making gentle _clinks_ against the porcelain ware.

He's… really silent. Max couldn't help but feel both a little surprised and cowed. Not using words but being able to give off the impression of pure power - just how much authority did Enoch wield?

"I presume that Richard won't be joining us tonight, then?" Samuel broke the silence, only to receive a curt nod from the other Elite. A few signs of disappointment were exchanged among the candidates, but none as prominent as the sigh from Carl.

 _Richard… As in, Richard Dragonar? What reasons could he possibly have for not attending this dinner?_

Max found his gaze straying often from his excellent meal to the rest of the people in the room, despite the silence and the awkward atmosphere. Indeed, most of the candidates were doing the same - no doubt trying to seize up the competition, but that wasn't his goal.

Samuel simply looked resigned, as if this were a common occurrence, in stark contrast to Enoch's discomfort, shown only by a few minute tells.

Miles was busy jotting down something in a notebook - perhaps material for his next interview, possibly.

Everyone else was otherwise occupied with matters of more pressing concern (that is to say, the food), and with the tense atmosphere, dinner was most certainly an awkward affair.

Admittedly, Max was very happy when the meal finally ended.

"Since everyone's here and accounted for, the tournament will begin tomorrow." Samuel addressed, running a hand through his blond locks. "So, yes, try to get some rest, because you'll definitely need it."

He glanced at Enoch, who simply left the room, butler and Audino in tow, before shrugging. "Since Enoch obviously doesn't have anything to add, I guess that's it. Be at the courtyard by eight a.m. sharp tomorrow." With that, he too left the room, Ampere close behind, leaving the twenty two candidates along with their Pokémon.

"I guess this is it, then." Carl shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "Looks like tomorrow's the day we've waited for; the day where shit goes down."

No one bothered replying, and so the blue-haired man continued. "Best of luck to everyone here, then." A low whistle, and the Arcanine bounded over to him. Together, man and dog left the room.

Almost as if it were a signal, the other candidates too began to leave with their Pokémon, some solo, others in pairs or small groups.

Max didn't even have to look; Butterfree found him first. He stroked her wings, letting her comfort him as she always did, even as they headed back to their assigned state room.

The door swung inward, revealing a room that was pretty much identical to the one he had woke in earlier - cream colored walls with a golden chandelier, dark oak furniture and heavy velvet curtains drawn to cover the windows, as well as the adjacent bathroom.

The main difference was in the arrangement of the furniture, but aside from that, even the four-poster bed and the leather sofa looked identical to the ones he remembered.

 _"This is… pretty fancy."_ Butterfree commented, landing on the coffee table. It was just as well that there were no mugs on said table, or they would be gone by now.

"A bit too fancy, really." Max grimaced. _More like, way too fancy._

Throwing the multiple pillows in a pile onto the floor, the teen then flopped onto said pile. Really, all this luxury wasn't his cup of tea.

"Goodnight, Butterfree."

 _"Goodnight, Max._ "

* * *

Characters:

Max Rogers and Butterfree (Butterfree) - _blazelight790_

Carl Ericsson and Yeager (Arcanine) - _Another Generic Gamer_

Samuel Troy and Ampere (Ampharos) - _Imagination Heaven_

Launa Everett and Froslass (Froslass) - _maycontestdrew_

Miles Fletcher and Rosalina (Clefable) - _SDproductions_

Enoch Maxwell and ? (Audino) - _emosewa-13_

Atlas Cross and Helios (Rapidash) - _CrimsonSkyTamer_

? and Break-Neck (Pangoro) - _?_

? and ? (Charizard) - _?_

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Johnny Blaze, suspect B._

 _So, I kind of lied, the pre-game didn't even manage to last five chapters. I do know that Max doesn't know everyone, but there's reasons for that._

 _Probably. O u O_

 _Also, the fight scenes are brought to you courtesy of **Sylveon Diancie Productions** , because I'm utterly hopeless at them, even with the tutelage of the esteemed **MikeV1**._

 _I wrote just half of the fight between Break-Neck and Butterfree. Sorry to be such a disappointment. Q W Q_

 _Also, there was so much trouble with this chapter because dear, sweet Rosalina and her eight-syllable phrases had me - and by extension, Butterfree - doing the same thing. swear, she has a really weird effect on us both._

 _Technically this chapter wasn't really "flame-like" - I wanted to go through all the contestants with fire-types, but it just spiraled into this thing. At least there's a bit of Free Time events with the Pokémon, I guess? (Free Time events? Seriously? Wow, you've really spent too long in DR. Wwwwwwwww - SD)_

 _Not my fault there._

 _Also, the next chapter will probably take a lot longer to upload, because of tertiary education. O W O_

 _Last but not least, congrats to **DJTiki** for finally submitting- just kidding. DJ joins the list of people with accepted OCs, haha._

 _Once again, this story is still accepting OC submissions, and I thank you for reading Crossroads._

 _Ciao! (O u O)/_

 _Next time on Crossroads: **Candidacy**_


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N:_

 _I regretted not showing off more candidates, and so, instead of moving on with the main storyline, this was written instead._

 _As you may have guessed, I switched out chapter names before uploading II. The original chapter III was named "_ _ **Night Time**_ " _, a throwback to Danganronpa- but that's not importa_ _nt, haha._

 _On to review replies:_

 _ **blazelight790**_ _\- Haha, I'm honored - but do remember to get ample rest. There's also likely to be a lot more characters, given the scale of this story. Most of them will be separated by region, though, so no worries there about information overload. As Amadeus puts it, 'trainer politics'. O W O Atlas has good reasons for being distant, and well, I can't leave Max out of the loop, can I? Froslass is really done with Max though, I'll say. No spoilers for the rest, www! O u O Wouldn't want that so early in the game. Also, names are just that - a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, or at least, that's what Jessie says. No need for apologies; I do enjoy reviews as much as every other author. Also, hooray for death flags. O u O_

 _ **Wolfang1011**_ _\- Presenting booster pack number two. Also, trainer politics is indeed such an apt name, if only because the little interactions are just that. Also, verbal tics are great! O W O It is only right that I refer to Mike with honor, after all-_

 _ **maycontestdrew**_ _\- Shhhh. long reviews are great. Butterfree is the Queen of Sass, and Break-Neck just can't appreciate it. A pity. Also, the concept of how Taunt works was inspired by SD, so- yeah, all questions go to him. Also, no hallucinations for Butterfree here, and yes, she got ignored. Le gasp. And honestly, Froslass and Butterfree are really similar, but throw in Launa and hell freezes over. Yeah. O W O_

 _(Wow. Our octosyllabic meter really_ _ **is**_ _contagious. Well done there. XD - SD)_

 _ **W. R. Winters**_ _\- Impossible to tell? I should think not; at least, not now. Still, if your bets are on Max… I'll have to find some way to live up to that expectation. O u O_

 _ **Inversered**_ _\- Thanks for the compliment. Rin would also like to inform you that she is a girl, and that her partner's name is Max, thank you._

 _ **Martyn (Guest)**_ _\- I do believe I've mentioned in the very first chapter that I will not be accepting OCs submitted by reviews, and my reason for doing so. Also, it seems to be the case where you're submitting a character without fully understanding the background of the story - for example, it is impossible for a human to learn the moves of Pokémon, even if you're not taking into account status/special moves, and that's not even factoring in the communication barriers. A Pokémon-only house also cannot possibly exist in this AU, given the location and the time period. There's also the factor regarding the selection of contestants by the League itself. Given that it is a tournament to select the next Champion - the next_ _ **ruler**_ _of the region - surely the contestants selected would actually have traits that would aid in leadership and/or governance, instead of just entering to "find out their roots"._

 _(And last but certainly not least, what exactly is stopping you from making an account to submit? I'm genuinely curious. - SD)_

 _ **MikeV1**_ _\- Sorry, no can do. The tournament ain't starting so soon. But hey, you'll get to see Reuben in this chapter. O u O Also, love the new story - and expect an incoming OC. :3c_

 _ **WereDragon EX**_ _\- Max might have come off a little snarkier than he was supposed to be, but generally, he's not the worst. Probably. XD. Unfortunately, Butterfree is the type who rubs just about everyone the wrong way - Break-Neck was just unfortunate to be there at that time. He would probably also have won if Rosalina hadn't entered the fray to save a fellow sister, haha. And yes, the Elite status certainly explains a lot. I hereby present the (not so) long awaited update!_

 _Without further ado, SkyFox Studios - in association with Sylveon Diancie Productions and Awesome Backwards - proudly presents to you Chapter 3, aka: "The other half of Chapter 2"._

 _Also, time to throw more OCs at you guys._

 _(Especially you, Amadeus. Have fun building a deck.)_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

 **Candidacy**

* * *

"Why can't I join the tournament?" Brittany huffed, pummeling the Torchic plushie in her arms, which had clearly seen better days.

Poor thing.

" _Ampharos… "_ She didn't need to turn around to know that Ampharos was amused with her somewhat childish tantrums, and while she usually was more of a lady, this situation had gotten out of hand.

Seriously, what would it take to convince her parents to let her enter the tournament?

"The participants are selected by the League's Council, yeah right." Brittany muttered, rolling off the bed and landing on her feet with careless grace. "Ampharos, I'm going to pay a little visit to the Indigo Plateau. Are you coming?"

It was a question that required no answer - wherever she went, Ampharos followed. He was quite basically her parent, after all, given that her biological parents never were around.

" _...Not this again, Lady Brittany. Big sis Ampere is going to have my head…"_ Ampharos sighed, following his little mistress as she flounced out of her bedroom, skirts flying indecently as she hit the stairs at a run. " _You really should give up, you know - there's no way Master Samuel will allow you to participate in the tournament, skills or no."_ The Light Pokémon paused for a moment, before tacking on an afterthought. " _Also, please smoothen out your skirt after that run, Lady Brittany - there is most certainly no need to flash your undergarments to the world."_

She couldn't understand him, however - just like her father, when her mind was set on something, Brittany would do all in her power (and more) to accomplish or acquire it. Thankfully, she did inherit her mother's intelligence, so that wasn't too bad of a combination.

Not to say that her father wasn't smart, of course.

It had the unfortunate side-effect of making his life a little more difficult as her unofficial parent - oh, who was he kidding, it made his life a living hell.

"Maria!" The blonde girl yelled - thankfully, her younger brother was already in school, and she didn't have to worry about disturbing him. "Prepare a mode of transportation - I'm going to the Indigo Plateau."

"But, Lady Brittany-" The maid protested weakly, well aware of the fact that nothing could change her lady's mind when it was made up - but she still had to try.

With a sigh, Ampharos scampered down the stairs. Past his lady and her maid was a door that led to the kitchens, and it was that same door that he entered. " _Sentinel?"_ He questioned, and was greeted with a soft " _Welcome"._

The door leading to the backyard glowed blue, before opening - in entered a Sigilyph, her tail 'feathers' trailing little lines of smoke. The door was closed behind the Avianoid Pokémon in silence, and the smoke abated with a few flicks of her tail. " _I would presume the little lady requires something?"_

" _Lady Brittany wishes for transportation to the Indigo Plateau."_ Ampharos made no attempt to hide his exasperation, but Sentinel merely chuckled. " _Our young lady has gotten denied yet again, I see."_

" _But of course."_ Hopping out of the kitchen, the Light Pokémon continued his train of thought. " _Master Samuel will not let her endanger herself so recklessly, not even if the League desperately needed contenders in the tournament for whatever reason - which they don't, I might add."_

" _Naturally, as expected, you of us all would understand him best."_ Sentinel chuckled as she followed Ampharos out of the kitchen, back into the hallway where her mistress and her lady were still arguing. " _Well, except for perhaps Ampere."_

The brown gaze of her mistress met hers, and the Sigilyph chuckled yet again - her mistress was frazzled, panicking and clearly being backed into a corner by their vivacious little lady.

 _Sentinel!_ The maid's relief surged through their bond. _Just in time, could I have a little help here?_

Maria Lambert was well known in the Troy household for being an efficient and unfazed worker, no matter what the job was - except when it came to dealing with one Brittany Troy, who had fortunately (or perhaps quite unfortunately) inherited both her parents' best traits.

Intelligence, with a laid-back attitude but an undying tenacity - truly, the **Electric Princess** was a terrifying lady indeed.

And she was also currently being pushed out the house's front door by a weary Ampharos. " _The sooner we get to the Plateau, the sooner we can get this over with."_

 _My lady,_ the Sigilyph signaled back telepathically, _if we don't allow the little mistress to go to the Plateau, when she finds a way to get there herself, well, our heads will roll._

 _To think her request was actually denied, though._ The petite lady sighed, before making her way to the front door. _If she gets into trouble at the Plateau, we didn't see anything._

 _But of course._ The front door closed and locked itself behind Sentinel.

* * *

The Victory Road was dark and gloomy, lighted only by Ampharos. Why it was called a road when it was clearly in fact a _tunnel_ , Brittany had no idea, and well, she didn't particularly want to find out.

Besides, it wasn't as if the Champion walked on the Victory Road often. In fact, the road was more commonly used by guards. She voiced this out loud, but received no comment from her brunette maid.

" _The Guard Road doesn't have quite the same ring to it, Lady Brittany."_ Ampharos sighed, not being able to find it in himself to give up on his lady, despite her obvious quirks.

Sentinel and Maria exchanged glances from their position as bullet catchers in front of young Brittany, amusement and exasperation simultaneously bouncing through their bond. The two came to a halt, however, at a fork in the path - which way to go?

No signs, no people to ask directions from - only two identical tunnels cut into the rock.

"A Strength puzzle, perhaps…?" The maid suggested, the barest hint of confusion lacing her tone.

Blonde locks were tossed as Brittany shook her head. "Those were abolished at least seven generations ago; no, there are quite clearly two diverging paths here."

" _Ahem. Bullet catchers, time to do your job."_ Ampharos chuckled. Surprisingly, the same thoughts were running through the mind of the blonde (self-proclaimed) princess. "Maria?"

"Yes, my lady?" The brunette maid bowed, awaiting the order that was sure to follow-

"Check enemy." was the order, Brittany pointing at the tunnels with a satisfied expression on her face.

"...okay, my lady."

With quick steps, the maid and her Sigilyph entered the tunnel on the left. There was no sound, however, except for fading footsteps - leaving Brittany alone with Ampharos.

Come to think of it, maybe sending Maria away, quite possibly to her doom, wasn't the smartest idea that Brittany had had lately. After all, she just lost any shield she might have had, in the unlikely event of an attack - not that she wasn't capable of handling such an issue, but then she'd have to get her hands dirty.

Ah well, hopefully, Maria returned quickly.

The fact that there weren't any blasts, screams or the clashes of metal hitting metal was probably a good sign - right? It totally didn't mean that both Maria and Sentinel got taken out in under a second. Yeah.

" _Meowstic."_

Now that was a cry she hadn't heard before. Brittany turned around sharply, Ampharos automatically moving to stand before her. "...?"

A feline stood upright before her, dark blue fur accented with white, twin tails waving slightly. The Meowstic stared at the girl and her Ampharos, unblinking, even as a young teen rounded the corner, catching up to the Constraint Pokémon. "S'il vous plaît, Rye, I know you're excited but-"

Green eyes met brown ones. Ever the polite lady, Brittany bowed slightly - there was no requirement to curtsy to a stranger, after all. "Greetings. May I inquire as to who you are?"

…Alright, so maybe that wasn't as formal as she had hoped. The blond boy didn't seem to mind, however. "Allô! At least, I think that's what people say. Mon nom est Reuben, Reuben Fournier."

Brittany could only blink, in the face of this learned young man who spoke in a mixed tongue. "It's nice to meet you, Reuben. My name is Brittany." At least, he was probably giving an introduction, right…?

" _What kind of weird language is that?"_ Ampharos grumbled, Rye shooting him with a wide smirk. " _Kalosian."_

Reuben smiled, but before he could reply, two more people entered the tunnel. Maria had returned, an enforcer alongside her. "My lady, both tunnels lead to the Plateau, but to different-" The report was halted, however, in the face of a stranger. "Lady Brittany…?"

"Lady?" The blond foreigner questioned. "Incroyable, to be meeting nobility in this tournament bataille, do you not agree, Rye?"

" _Indeed."_ The feline bobbed his head in agreement, even as the blonde lady and her Ampharos exchanged glances.

"Monsieur, are you perhaps headed for the Indigo Plateau as well?" Gesturing to the other tunnel, Maria continued. "Sir Arthur was going to guide Lady Brittany there, but I'm sure she would be glad for the company."

"Maria!" was the admonishment, to which the maid only smiled.

Reuben nodded. "Oui, I would be grateful for the company. I'm not so good at talking, though. I'm not stupid or anything, I just do better at listening."

"That's alright, silent company can be quite a nice change." Brittany hastily added, before Maria could reply. "Let us proceed."

The unlikely party walked to the Indigo Plateau in silence - save for the sound of footsteps - with the enforcer being the lead, with Reuben bringing up the rear with his Meowstic.

The silence was finally broken, by none other than Brittany - for the sole reason of being bored. "So, Reuben, why have you come to Kanto?"

"To bataille is the main reason for everything, I feel." This casual statement earned him a stern glance from the enforcer, not that it was visible from behind the darkened visor.

"Trainer battles are forbidden in these regions, Monsieur." Maria informed quietly, not missing the quick flash of disappointment on the boy's face before it vanished. "Only in Kanto do we have Battle Tents, by the efforts of the current Champion - but even then, events are held only under strict supervisation."

" _Isn't that really boring?"_ Rye questioned, paw tugging at an ear. " _How do you spend your time, if you don't battle?"_

" _You may think it's boring, but life is peaceful."_ Ampharos replied quietly, " _With such a system, protecting the people, and ensuring that they are safe, becomes easier."_

" _So, safety in exchange from freedom, is that it?"_ The Meowstic sounded indignant, not that Ampharos or Sentinel could blame him.

" _...Shall we drop the topic?"_ The Sigilyph questioned, but the steel in her tone made it clear that it was just about an order. None were obliged to obey, but silence fell upon the small group.

Having not much else to say, the conversation between the humans too had whittled down. Reuben had retreated into silence, with Maria and the enforcer respectfully maintaining theirs. Brittany, on the other hand, kept her opinions of this motley 'crew' to herself.

"The main entrance to the Plateau is here." After what seemed like a silent eternity of walking, the enforcer spoke. "This is where I take my leave, Lady Troy." With a small bow, he left, leaving Brittany, Maria and Reuben by the side of the doorway cut into the rockface.

"My lady?" The brunette questioned, only to be silenced by a raised hand. Without a word, the blonde girl walked through the doorway, followed closely after by her Ampharos.

"What about Monsieur?" Maria asked, only to find no one else in the tunnels. _Sir Reuben has gone on ahead, chasing after his partner_ , Sentinel informed through their telepathic link.

 _..I see_ , was the quiet musing. With a small shrug, the maid too entered the doorway.

* * *

"Ah, Reuben Fournier. I was wondering when you would show up."

"My name is Brittany Troy, not Reuben Fournier." The blonde teen sighed, for what seemed to be the umpteenth time. "And no, I am not a participant in the tournament."

"Oui, the first I can verify." Now holding Rye in his arms, Reuben stepped into the announcer's line of sight. "About the roster - Je ne sais pas. But I am Reuben Fournier, reporting as requested."

"I _was_ referring to the boy, y'know." Miles deadpanned. "In any case, Monsieur Fournier, if you would please follow me? I am in need of your presence."

"I'll come with him-" Brittany started out of politeness, before he held out a hand to stop her.

"And as much as it is a surprise to see you here, miss Troy, do know that I am quite capable of alerting your father to your presence should you try to interfere with any of the contestants," the black-haired man intoned cheerily. "Can't have you skew the results how you like them, after all."

She was taken aback at the threat. "You wouldn't dare."

Without missing a beat, Miles yelled, " **Electric Princess** in the house!"

"Brittany!"

All eyes turned to the blond man who had just come running up, closely followed by his Ampharos. Samuel Troy was not known for being anything but lax, but right now, the look on his face could only be described as disappointment.

"I've told you before, you can't just enter the Indigo Plateau like that," the man sighed, running a hand through his messy blond locks, the exact same shade as his daughter's. "In fact, I distinctly remember Ampharos not being able to fly, so how did you-?"

"If I may, Master Samuel," the maid interrupted, bowing slightly when addressing her employer. "Lady Brittany did not come to the Indigo Plateau alone. I am also sure you are aware that no one can stop her when she has made up her mind."

Ignoring the vehement protests from his daughter, Samuel nodded approvingly. "At least you did one thing right, Maria." Gesturing for the maid to follow him, a hint of a grin crossed the Elite's face. "Miles, I leave my daughter in your capable hands - at least, until Maria takes her back."

To say that the black-haired man was unamused was an understatement, even if the smile on his face only quivered slightly.

"But, father-" The blonde lady began, only to be silenced by a dismissive wave. "Maria, you know where my office is - after you finish the paperwork, please take Brittany home."

"..." "..."

A deadpan silence fell upon all who had gathered. _So, the only reason why his daughter is allowed to stay, is because he basically wants to push his paperwork onto the maid._

Best father ever.

Not entirely oblivious to the stares he was getting, Samuel merely chuckled, motioning for Maria to get started with the work. With a quiet sigh, the maid obliged - it wasn't as if she could disobey an order, anyway - before heading into the main building.

"Master Samuel?"

Another newcomer. _Really,_ Brittany mused to herself, resisting the urge to facepalm. It wasn't ladylike, after all. _Just how many people are there at the Plateau?_

This time round, it was a butler who came running up. Recognising him vaguely as the head butler of some rich family among the nobility, Brittany kept silent, wondering just what business he had with her father.

"The Young Master requests that you report to the Tower immediately. He is getting rather... impatient, I believe, and the presence of Master Volok is not helping matters." Despite his words, no exasperation accompanied the butler's tone - it was perfectly neutral, as if stating as report.

Samuel shrugged, miming a slicing motion across his throat with a hand - crude, but effective. "I'd best get going, then. Enoch isn't famous for his patience." Giving a quick hug to his daughter, the man began walking to the main castle - though to everyone watching, it was quite obvious that he was moving at a slower speed than usual.

Brittany stifled a laugh. Clearly, her father was trying to annoy his fellow Elite without giving any concrete reason for the other to use against him. _Good luck, you'll need it._

"Well…" Miles dragged out the word, running a hand through his black hair, causing it to stand up in messy little spikes. "I guess you both could wait outside the media tent. I do have to interview a few more people." His fuchsia gaze fixed on Brittany, who, to her credit, didn't flinch even minutely. "I trust that you can handle yourself?"

"But of course." The slightest hint of indignation coloured her tone. _Who does he think he is, anyway?!_

"That's good." Miles led the way to the pitched tent of operations, motioning for them to stay outside before vanishing into said tent alone.

An awkward silence fell upon the duo left outside, the boy still keeping a tight hold on his Meowstic, and Ampharos standing protectively beside his lady.

"So… Reuben, where are you from?" _Way to go, Brittany. 5/7, best conversation starter._

A small smile. "Oh, I'm from Kalos." No attempt was made to elaborate, though, and the girl pressed no further.

 _Kalos? Isn't that one of the regions across the ocean, on the other side of the world?_

She had heard tales of the region and of its neighbor Unova, most particularly about their Pokémon - and of course, fashion. But the blonde girl hadn't always paid _that_ much attention, if only because they weren't all that relevant to her life.

They were an entirely separate jurisdiction from Kanto - and the other three states under the League's authority - after all.

"Gooooooooooood evening, ladies and gentlemen! It's all smiles for miles with me, your host, Miles Fletcher! It's so good to be back here where I belong!"

The voices had, without a doubt, come from inside the tent. Exchanging a glance with Reuben, Brittany toyed with the idea of peeping, before eventually deciding not to.

The last thing she needed was for Miles to tattle to her father again.

"Please give a warm welcome to miss Verona Moore!"

It would seem that Rye had no such concerns, however, the Meowstic having hopped out of his trainer's arms, dashing over to the tent flap. Flustered, the blond boy chased after his partner, being careful not to make too much noise.

The sound of applause reached the duo's ears, along with a voice clearly identifiable as belonging to a female. "Get on with it."

"Ooh, touchy, aren't you? No need to be rude now, especially since you've earned the privilege of being one of our Chosen few, y'know?" Miles' voice responded.

"Is it really such a privilege?" The reply was quick in coming, and with all certainty. "The invitation in itself was the very definition of a threat, after all."

Outside the tent, Brittany was fuming. Just who did this Verona think she was, to blatantly insult the League like that? Ampharos tugged at her sleeves, but garnered no attention.

"Fine, be a party pooper like that Max guy then! Seriously, can't anyone ever appreciate the worth in a good show?!" A loud, deep breath, before the announcer's voice switched back to cheery from annoyed. "Anyways, since I don't think I can stand to be around you much longer considering you are the very definition of a _bitch_ , do you have anything to say to our viewers-?"

 _Shing!_

That was clearly the sound of metal slicing through air - moving instinctively, Ampharos pushed Brittany back, away from the tent.

On the other side of the entrance, it was Reuben who moved first, dragging Rye as far away as he could.

A faint _swish_ reached their ears before-

 _ **THUNK!**_

Following that, a woman flew out of the tent headfirst, sliding along the ground for some distance before coming to a halt.

She was of an average height and a wiry build, black hair strewn from a messy ponytail. Her clothes were a little dusty, but what drew all eyes was the Kilij sword still clutched in her hand, a charm bracelet with four charms dangling from it.

"I'm afraid I may have accidentally thinned the competition, but in case I haven't killed her, be sure to look out for miss Moore in the tournament. Or don't - please don't. Until next time, this is Miles Fletcher, signing out!"

The sound of the marker and "Cut!" barely rung out before Miles leapt out of the tent in one bound, planting the telescopic staff he was best known for into the ground.

"Verona - can I call you Verona? - anyways, Verona, I would very much appreciate it if you didn't try to _threaten me with death_ in my own studio." He addressed the woman, who got up with a snarl. "My show is supposed to be rated PG-13 - you just made me use the one permitted swear word on-screen that I was planning on saving for the end, so to that, fuck you. Fuck you very much."

"Go fuck yourself, Fletcher," was all she said, before the woman attempted to lunge at him-

"Halt!"

But the blade continued in its trajectory, forcing Miles to bring up his staff in response.

"Ampere, Thunder Wave!" the male voice called as yet another Ampharos appeared on the scene, this one larger and more feminine.

The weak electricity flew into the ostensibly metal weapons that had been locked together in her attack, causing them to have a miniature reaction, forcing both combatants away from each other.

Gazes flickered, before turning to the blond man who had just arrived. Brittany stiffened - never before had she heard her father shout, especially not with anger practically radiating from him.

"I expected more, especially from potential Champions." Samuel stated. "Let it be said that I have given you both fair warning - any more fighting, and you will be disqualified from the tournament _and_ banished immediately."

"But she started it!" Miles whined, though Samuel ignored him.

" _Remember to move a little faster next time,"_ Ampere chided her younger brother, who grumbled. " _But it wasn't my business, sis!"_ Brittany's Ampharos shot back.

" _It could have been. A little change in trajectory, and Brittany would have been in the line of fire."_ She waved a stubby arm, dismissing the excuses. " _Now, I do believe it's time to go."_

Right on cute, the blond man left, Ampere close behind - but not before shooting his daughter a meaningful glance. Verona left immediately after, sheathing her sword as she did so. Brittany took note of the direction in which the black-haired woman was headed - she would be sure to avoid the area later on.

"Good riddance, I say." Miles muttered, contracting his staff such that it folded back up into a stick the size of his elbow. Turning to her blond companion with a smile, any anger having disappeared as suddenly as it appeared, he greeted him, "In any case, Monsieur Fournier, you're up next. If you would please kindly enter the tent - and try not to take my head off while you're at it, actually. That would be much appreciated."

"Oui, I understand." Reuben nodded, picking up his Meowstic once again. "No pranks, okay, Rye?"

Rye didn't look too happy, but agreed nonetheless, as they entered the tent after Miles.

Now alone with Ampharos, Brittany slumped a little. There was nothing she could do but to wait, it seemed.

"Something the matter?"

"I believe you can say that, yes." The blonde replied with a heavy sigh, Ampharos now insistently tugging on her sleeve. "What _is_ it, Ampharos-"

Her gaze had followed the direction in which her partner had pointed; standing before her was a pale tan feline with a very distinctive curl at the end of its long tail. The red gem in the middle of its forehead sparkled in the sunlight.

"There's no need to stare," the Persian stated, twitching its whiskers in what Brittany was sure to be either irritation or amusement. Probably the former.

" _You speak the human language?"_ Wary, Ampharos took a step forward, placing himself between the Classy Cat Pokémon and his lady. If a fight broke out, well…

"That I do, yes." Tilting his head to the side, the Persian seemed to listen intently for a few moments before continuing. "Also, Anton assures you that we won't start a fight. No one wants to risk banishment, after all."

"Anton?" Brittany questioned, her curiosity having being piqued.

" _That's not the main point here, Lady Brittany."_ Ampharos very nearly yelled, managing to slam the lid on his frustration just in time. " _The main question, is how that cat read my mind-"_

"I didn't. Read your mind, that is." The Persian seemed to be enjoying their distress, if the smirk on his face was any indication. "Also, Anton is my partner, who happens to be right behind you both - and has been for a while now, actually."

Indeed, a young man stood behind them - just how had he been so silent?

A sheathed katana slung across his back, the silver-haired man carried a sketchbook in his hands. He shrugged a little, almost as if an apology for the startle, before moving to stand by his Persian.

"This is Anton, Anton Evans." The Persian introduced. "And I'm Felix," was the added afterthought.

"I'm Brittany, and this here is Ampharos. It's a pleasure to meet you." Brittany introduced herself - a tad awkwardly, if one were to be honest. Introducing herself to a talking cat was weird...

" _What Lady Brittany said."_ Ampharos replied curtly, still a tad irritated. He would get over it, however - it was unbecoming and a hindrance in his effort as Brittany's aide.

"Anton apologizes for whatever trouble he's caused." Felix stated yet again, this time nodding his head a little. "He also wishes me to apologise, but honestly, I've done nothing wrong, so I'm not going to."

A small flinch tore at the Persian, as Brittany and Ampharos watched on in confusion.

"Okay, okay, I give." Felix huffed. "I'm sorry for whatever duress that I may have unknowingly caused - though in my opinion, it's not my fault you were startled by my speaking ability."

An awkward silence fell upon the little group once more, with Brittany reflecting on how often it had already happened today - seriously, what was with all the pauses? Was she really _that_ bad at conversations?

"Merci, I shall take my leave now." Exiting the tent was Reuben, with Rye now next to him, scrambling a little to keep pace with the larger footsteps of his partner.

"Thank you very much, Fournier! Now, next up is-" he froze once he saw the Persian.

"Ah…bugger. Anton Evans."

She had never seen the black-haired man's face drop so fast.

The albino merely nodded once, before entering the tent. Felix, on the other hand, turned his nose up at the unhappy announcer, before following his trainer into the tent, tail high up in the air.

"Gonna have to bump it up to MA15 now...I'll be damned if I make it through this interview without cursing," he muttered, entering the tent.

With a small sigh, Brittany turned to speak to Reuben, only to find that the boy and his Meowstic had seemingly vanished. _Well…_

Ampharos watched as conflicted emotions crossed his lady's expression, before she seemingly decided upon her next course of action. " _Oh boy. This is going to be real bad, isn't it…?"_

And indeed it was - if exploring the place could be considered bad.

"It'll be a good way to pass the time, at least until Maria's done with father's paperwork." The blonde convinced herself, beginning her walk to the main building. "All I need to do is to avoid the area where that League-hater lady went, and I'll be alright."

" _Yes, with all certainty - this is indeed a bad idea. May I suggest another, safer, activity…"_ Ampharos' sole advantage over Brittany was that he had actually paid attention to the guests in the manor - no doubt he could at least identify friend from foe. However, with Brittany around…

Wait, where was Brittany?

 _She left already?!_ The Light Pokémon fumed, before catching sight of aforementioned girl further down the path. " _Wait for me, dammit!"_

* * *

The hallways were lit predominantly by the light streaming in from clear windows, as well as by the occasional gas lamp. Shades of pale cream and dark red velvet colored the wall, an occasional trellis of gold leaf framing the corners.

 _Frankly speaking_ , Brittany mused, turning a critical eye on the interior decor, _the colors are too dark, and the lack of lamps is going to be a huge problem at night._

Not that it was truly an issue, but at Troy manor, it was always lighted. Both father and daughter did have the Light Pokémon as partners, after all - it was to be expected.

As a lady born into wealth and influence, it would be a shame if she weren't at least well versed in the arts. Brittany nodded to herself, thankful that she had decided to pursue a higher education - of course, that included Pokémon studies.

" _Lady Brittany…"_ Ampharos sighed, not liking the gleam in his lady's brown eyes. She was thinking of something, that he knew - the Light Pokémon could only hope that whatever it was, it didn't make his life any more miserable than it already was.

Well, considering his luck, it probably spelled bad news.

He tripped slightly. _Odd, where's everyone?_

Unsurprisingly enough, Brittany also hadn't yet met anyone in the building, despite walking around the hallways for a while.

 _Just where in the building am I, really?_ The blonde frowned - she didn't pout; of course she didn't. All the hallways looked identical, right down to the ebony doors that no doubt opened into the guest state rooms.

" _We've been walking in circles for quite some time now…"_ Ampharos would have flopped onto the floor and quite adamantly refuse to walk any further, but to do so would land him in a world of hurt - especially when news of the incident reached his big sis Ampere's ears. " _Can we take a break yet, Lady Brittany?"_

Naturally, Brittany didn't understand a word - but she could take a hint. Ampharos had been muttering more often as they had walked, leading the girl to the conclusion that her partner was tired. "Sorry, Ampharos." Patting him on the head gently, she was rewarded with a huff - and a small smile.

The yellow Pokémon raised a stubby arm, pointing at the nearest open doorway. " _A rest stop?"_ Ampharos cringed slightly at the informal address, but hey, it wasn't as if Ampere would know if it were just this once… right?

Following the indicated direction, Brittany nodded, before pushing open the door, just as it was opened from the inside.

Brown eyes met amber ones, shock followed by recognition clearly seen in the former.

Almost immediately, Brittany dropped into a deep curtsey. "Lord Karnith, I apologise for the intrusion."

Brown locks tinted with a hint of gold fluttered as Volok Karnith shook his head briskly, manila folder clasped in his pale hands. "I was about to leave."

With a nod, Brittany made to move out of his way, when-

"What's with the hold up?"

" _Is that-?!"_ Ampharos never did get a chance to finish his sentence, for Brittany had dashed into the room as soon as she heard the voice. Shaking his head yet again, Volok walked off into the hallways, shredding the contents of the manila folder as he did so.

"Cora!"

Seeing her mentor and friend (of sorts), the blonde girl had rushed over in an attempt to hug the other, only to freeze in an awkward position. _Right, can't hug her unless she says it's safe…_

Sickly grey eyes closed in mirth as the slender lady stood up from her seated position on the bed, short black locks now streaked with even more red highlights then Brittany previously remembered.

The two women hugged briefly. "Never thought that you of all people would actually be a contestant," Cora grinned, giving her 'student' a sideways glance out the corner of her eye. "So, out with it - what did you do _this_ time?"

Brittany huffed. "I like how every time we meet, your first assumption is that I've committed a mistake that I require your aid to resolve…"

" _You forgot the word 'again', Lady Brittany."_ Ampharos deadpanned, much to the amusement of the purple bat in the corner of the room. " _Why, did she destroy the lab again?"_ The Crobat snickered, to which it received no dignified response.

"But it's usually true, yes?" was the reply, followed by a short bout of raucous laughter. "Have you actually been practicing at all?"

"Yes, I've been practicing, and no - I've not done anything wrong." Brittany tossed her blonde locks in a clear show of mock-irritation. "Not this time, at least - that is, if you don't count entering the Indigo Plateau uninvited."

Cora wiped away a small tear. "That's got to be priceless. How did Samuel react?"

Brittany paused. "He ordered Maria to do his paperwork."

"..." It didn't come as a surprise when Cora broke into laughter once more, but it did come as one when she stood up. "I'll have a few words with him about his paperwork, no worries." This last was said with an inhumanly wide grin - one that Brittany had seen only once before. It caused a shiver to go down her spine; the last person who caused such an expression was found piecemeal, after all.

"Try not to kill my father…?" _I like him alive and in one piece, thank you very much._

"Oh, I'll _try_. Remember not to exit the room until Maria calls, no matter what you hear, yeah?" The black-haired woman left the room, Crobat close behind her.

" _This is bad."_ Ampharos paced the room hurriedly, a few sparks bursting to life from its tail. " _This is really_ _ **really**_ _bad…"_

"Calm down, Ampharos!" If Brittany was nervous, she was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. "It's okay. Cora won't hurt father and Ampere… too much." _Probably. Hopefully._

Suddenly, a knock sounded. "Is anyone inside? If so, may I enter?" a distinctly male voice called out.

Without much thought, the girl shouted out, "Come in!"

Cora wouldn't have given her location to anyone she was uncertain of, after all.

The door opened, swinging inwards, as her gaze traveled over in an attempt to identify the newcomer, before widening.

 _Holy Arceus._ Whoever this guy was, he was _hot._

Windswept white locks framed an oval face, and a pair of warm, orange eyes. The man was rocking a positively delicious tan, and was wearing a brown vest over an immaculately white dress shirt and black slacks. A blue bandanna was neatly tied around one wrist, and the other had a fingerless glove on.

But again, he was _hot_.

"I was looking around for a pretty face. Thankfully, I seem to have found one," he greeted with a smile.

Brittany almost forgot to breathe, let alone reply. "Do you require… something…?"

"Ah, I only wish for a place to rest." He nodded. "Saber Cyrille, at your service. I presume you are miss Achlys, to whom this room belongs to?"

She hastily shook her head, for once overly conscious about herself. "Cora is out settling…matters. I'm Brittany, Brittany Troy."

His face lit up in recognition. "Ah, the Electric Princess. You are truly as gorgeous as the rumors made you out to be, and perhaps even more." Stepping into the room, he bent down on one knee and kissed her hand. "A pleasure to meet you at long last."

A tint of pink colored her cheeks, but the moment was quickly broken. " _Womanizer, get away from Lady Brittany!"_ A stubby arm smacked Saber's face away, with an irate Ampharos being the reason why.

He rubbed his cheek. "I mean you or your lady no harm, Ampharos. Surely you can appreciate her allure as well?"

" _Excuse me, are you implying that I'm blind?!"_ More sparks flew as the Light Pokémon raged, now waving both stubby arms at Saber. " _It is precisely because I am aware of Lady Brittany's good looks, that I am preventing you from getting too close to her!"_

"Calm down," he said soothingly, placing a hand on the Ampharos' shoulder. To said Ampharos' shock, the mild shock that he had tried to zap the playboy with did absolutely nothing. "Relax a little, my friend. I only wish to make the formal acquaintance of such an charming lady as miss Troy."

"Yeah… Ampharos, maybe you should relax a little." Brittany smiled, patting her partner on the head. "I'm sure he's no enemy - you trust Cora, right? Also, I'm perfectly capable of making judgements myself, you know."

" _Yes, I trust Cora, but there's no proof this guy was sent by her! Also, Lady Brittany, how could you be on_ _ **his**_ _side?"_ If he had been any lesser being, he probably would have rage quit. Long ago, he might add. But no, he was Ampharos, and he wouldn't back down - this irritating playboy wasn't getting his hands on Brittany.

"Please understand - I genuinely do not wish any harm onto your mistress." He reached out and curled a lock of her blonde hair around a finger. "There is a cardinal sin in blemishing what can only be described as true beauty in this world."

" _Alright, I've had enough of you."_ The red gems on Ampharos crackled with electricity, as he readied to-

"Ampharos, return!" " _W-Wait, what?"_

The flash of red light abated, leaving behind a Luxury Ball in Brittany's outstretched hand. She reattached the ball to her belt with a small sigh, before turning to face Saber. "I'm really sorry about that; Ampharos isn't usually that aggressive. I never imagined that his protective instincts would kick in to _that_ extent."

"He is a fine Ampharos for being so chivalrous as to defend his fair lady," he shrugged.

The pink hue that had dusted her cheeks had returned, this time slightly darker. "That's… Well… what about your partner?" _When in doubt, change the topic. Thumbs up for the obvious improvement in conversation skills._

He laughed. "Spark's probably keeping a lookout for any electrical appliances to hack into. That's his specialty, you see - perhaps you'll meet him in time, but for now, I'd like to talk about you."

Brittany blinked, unsure if she had just heard right. "What about, exactly…?"

"Miss Troy, you have the loveliest pair of thighs that I've ever had the fortune of seeing in my life." Saber said, looking at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"But when? You couldn't have seen them," Brittany was most definitely puzzled. At no point in time had she lifted her skirt, so how-?

With a roguish grin, Saber proceeded to lift up her skirt. "Right about now."

Brittany yelped, hastily pushing her skirt back down and backing away. True, she was wearing shorts, but still-!

"My apologies, too direct?"

"What were you trying to do?!" Indignation and embarrassment colored her tone as she pointed an accusing finger at him, cheeks now tinted red instead of pink.

He held up his hands in surrender. "I only wished to see your thighs, nothing more, nothing less. I meant exactly what I said when I didn't wish any harm on you."

"An outrage of modesty is perfectly well _within_ the limits of 'harm', thank you very much!" Brittany kept her volume just under that of a shout, however - there was no need to draw attention, no matter how irritated she was.

A frown crossed the white-haired man's face. "It is? Wow, they certainly are more conservative here than in Sinnoh. In that case, I sincerely apologize - you do, however, have a pair of lovely thighs."

"Yes, well, I thank you for the compliment but I do believe you've _long_ overstayed your welcome-"

The door was flung open, a blond man rushing into the room, closely followed by an Ampharos. A little haggard looking but not actually worse for the wear, Samuel Troy opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted before he could even begin.

"Dad!" Brittany called, happy for a familiar face.

"Dad?!" Saber blanched. "Spark!"

Instantly, Cora's window exploded into glass shards.

Quickly making his way over to his newly-made exit, the youth took a final moment to salute Brittany. "A pleasure as always, my dear, but I'm afraid I must take my leave. Farewell, my lovely!"

Before he leaned back, and allowed himself to fall out of it, legs disappearing over the side.

For a moment, she was actually kind of worried that he had just killed himself. Pervert or not, she had genuinely enjoyed his compliments, and so she found herself rushing over to the windowsill.

As the lawn mower hovered back up, the white-haired womanizer hanging on to its back.

" _Dude, this grass cutter is legit!"_ The Rotom possessing said lawn mower laughed fiendishly. " _Wassup, Sabertooth?"_

"As far away from the lovely lady as possible!" he hollered, and Spark complied, zooming off.

The evening light caused her waist-length locks to shine like gold fire, as Brittany stared in what was equal parts astonishment and shock, the frantic shaking of the Luxury Ball attached to her belt showing the violent thrashing of a certain irate Ampharos within his ball. " _I'll electrocute that no good playboy the next time!"_

"Can someone tell me what just happened?" Samuel sighed, running a hand through his blond hair - just why did all the work get pushed to him again? Right, because Enoch was busy, Volok had another job and couldn't bring himself to care about the contenders.

"He flipped my skirt, apologised, then made his exit when you arrived." Brittany reported, tensing up a little when she saw the maniacal glint in her father's dark brown eyes. "Um, father…?"

"This goes beyond the issue of stealing a lawnmower and destroying a window - that's under Enoch's jurisdiction. But for being a skirtchaser…"

" _Time to go; dinner calls."_ Grasping a hold on Samuel's trench coat, Ampere dragged the Elite out of the room, but not without bowing to Brittany first. " _Maria will arrive shortly, please wait for her."_

A fading shout of "Saber Cyrille, you get back here this very instant!" could be heard from the hallway, followed by maniacal laughter from a location somewhere in the distance.

Sure enough, the brunette maid arrived only minutes later, Sigilyph in tow. Considering the amount of work she must have done, it came as a surprise that no ink stained her hands. "I apologise for making you wait, my lady."

"Not at all." Brittany replied causally - at least, she could still maintain proper conduct. Resolving to contact her father tomorrow morning to ensure that no unfortunate deaths occurred, the girl followed her maid out of the Plateau, and back to the manor.

 _Come to think of it, tomorrow morning may actually be too late, especially if Cora's poisoned the food like she usually does…_

* * *

It was late at night when she finally escaped the lecture. Maria might be her maid, but boy could she give a scolding - Brittany almost felt ashamed.

Keyword being _almost_.

Ampharos was asleep in his part of her room. With a small smile, the girl walked over to place a blanket over him, at the same time double-checking to make sure that she'd be undisturbed.

The door was locked, just as it should be.

Pulling a pale blue book out from a secret compartment in her desk, Brittany grabbed a pen and began to write. Blue ink splashed across the white pages, forming words in an elegant, cursive font.

 _Reuben Fournier - Nice, Kalosian, loves to battle. Has a male Meowstic partner judging by its appearance and name, Rye, who apparently likes pranks._

 _Verona Moore - Violent, brutal, stand-offish. Stay away from her at all costs. Watch Miles' interview to see just what threw her out of the tent._

 _Anton Evans - Mute, mysterious, owns a talking Persian named Felix. Unclear, needs more information - catch up on Miles' interview with him; if anything, there's a chance to see an exasperated Miles._

 _Cora Achlys - Mentor, friend, ally. Keep an eye out for her in case Father (or anyone else at the Plateau) gets unexplained case of diarrhoea or other symptoms tomorrow._

 _Saber Cyrille - …?_

Her pen faltered. What _did_ she want to write about him?

Closing the book with a sigh, she returned it to its hiding place, away from prying eyes.

She'd keep an eye on Saber throughout the tournament - that is, if her father hadn't forcibly removed him from it yet.

* * *

 **Characters:**

Brittany Troy and Ampharos (Ampharos) - _Imagination Heaven_

Samuel Troy and Ampere (Ampharos) - _Imagination Heaven_

Maria Lambert and Sentinel (Sigilyph) - _CrimsonSkyTamer_

Reuben Fournier and Rye (Meowstic) - _MikeV1_

Miles Fletcher and Rosalina (Clefable) - _SDproductions_

Verona Moore and Break-Neck (Pangoro) - _WereDragon EX_

Anton Evans and Felix (Persian) - _W. R. Winters_

Cora Achlys and Mist (Crobat) - _DJTiki_

Volok Karnith and ? (?) - _Kuro Shikaku_

Saber Cyrille and Spark (Rotom) - _SDproductions_

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _I foresee that Crossroads will have a lot of OCs created by myself, SD or Emo, if only because of the sheer scale. Just look at Maria, for one! O W O (Just a little joke for everyone who's watched Ah Boys to Men, don't worry if you didn't get the reference.)_

 _Also, Felix the Prussian is from Persia. Yeah. Do not question the almighty typo. Because Hetalia._

 _Regarding characters: Blaise is the waifu, but Saber is the numero uno skirtchaser. Also, Reuben is the ultimate cinnamon roll; at least until he steps into the battlefield. Then, all hell breaks loose. O A O If you've read_ _ **MikeV1's**_ _stories, Battle Chronicles and Balance, then you'll know what I'm talking about…_

 _As a side note, this will most likely be my last update before school begins; unfortunately, yes, that means that my current updating speed will be slowed down. I'll try to write when I can, though._

 _Meanwhile, we have one last chapter before the tournament officially begins! I hope you're all excited for the action, because I know I am._

 _It's time to raise the flags! I fight for- oh wait, wrong fandom. O u O_

 _As a little extra, I have a quick question for you all: Who do you think are likely to be among the final few contestants standing, and why?_

 _I assure you, this question has nothing to do with the death flags I've raised so far - none at all. No misdirection here, so just move along-_

 _Until next time, ciao! (O u O)/_

 _Next time on Crossroads:_ _ **Night Time**_


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N:_

 _In the shadows, stare into the darkness, and you may just find that it stares back at you. For tonight, so that the world may be tamed, let us all become slaves to the lead role's play. -Sky_

 _Do you really think you're alone? No man is an island. Well, except maybe our buddy Penumbro. Long story. Wwwwwww - SD_

 _Peace (Breaker) out. -Emo_

 _Onward to review replies:_

 _ **Wolfang1011** (Amadeus): This isn't even half of the complete deck, I think. O W O Anton is very silent, yes - heck, his alias even has the word "Silent" in it, haha. Also, Saber is the Ultimate Skirtchaser, but whether he succeeds in catching Brittany is a whole different story. And Samuel's new title shall be 'chaser of a skirtchaser'. It is confirmed. Though, no spoilers as to whether or not Cora kills him, or any of the other candidates for that matter. Just know that she likes to kill people at dinner time, so... yeah. O u O And yeah, Brittany's a good kid, but her allegiance has been made very clear. Votes for the cinnamon roll god of death - just wait till you see his battle. Just wait for it, man. O W O!_

 _ **W. R. Winters** : Thanks very much for the compliment, and Anton is a pretty good character to write. Felix, though, is a whole other story… Also, regarding Miles' interviews, they weren't planned to be shown - but I'll try to insert them as filler chapters. There's some potential for character exploration (and in some cases development) there, so thank you for bringing up the idea!_

 _ **Imagination Heaven:** Hello, fellow Singaporean! SD and I are your fellow countrymen, haha. O V O Yes, indeed I am in a junior college - but SD is not, haha. No more tidbits about us here, though, just in case you try to hunt us down - dun dun dun. Still, if you ever want to talk a bit more about topics closer to home, feel free to PM, yeah? O w O Also, Brittany and Samuel are great - especially since their stories clicked with those of a few ideas I had in mind. Kudos to you, Heaven; many kudos to you._

 _ **blazelight790** : Bye Max! (Just kidding, haha.) From this one chapter, it's quite clear where Brittany stands - in terms of allegiance, that is. However, given her upbringing and her family (because Samuel lol), it's quite justifiable that she thinks the way she does, heh. Interestingly enough, Samuel is 38 years old - the oldest of the Johto Elites by far. And like most other dads in the Pokemon games, no 'Best Dad' award there, yep. Also, I like how both my characters get the "He/She's so mysterious" comments every time, lol. I mean, Maria's just there for the movie reference, pfft. Also, yes - cinnamon roll Reuben. Much cheering, haha - if you want to see more Reuben action, go check out Balance by MikeV1. O u O To call Verona a spitfire is kind of an understatement, I feel, but she has pretty good reasons for attacking Miles. After all, it is true that the tournament 'invitation' was basically a threat letter, and Miles isn't helping by being obnoxious. Regarding Saber… talk to SD, won't you? wwww I don't have any control over that department. Interesting choice of final contestants, but really, Max? The guy who's been in the forest for years? Pffft. Fair warning in advance: when you have a story told only from a single character's point of view, you can't trust everything that's written. Make of that what you will, but until next time, that's it from me! O W O_

 _ **Ame no Kagaseo** : The Anton/Felix pair? A notable option indeed - we'll see how the battles play out._

 _ **StattStatt** : If you think the cast is bad now, wait till we reach the after-game, haha. Usually I try to make my paragraphs short, but I'll take note of that! Also, I've been posting on mobile, so I tend to miss out parts due to the tiny screen - many apologies for that. Still, the story is only as good as the characters in it, and so I shall redirect a large part of the compliments to everyone who has submitted characters to Crossroads, as well as SD and Emo. It's a team effort, after all. O u O_

 _ **Kuro Shikaku** : Lord indeed, yes. Then again, taking into account that Brittany is somewhat the equivalent of nobility in a somewhat-modern era, it is entirely logical for her to address her father's coworker as "Lord". O w O It'll be some time before the ride reaches the fall, but until then, enjoy the slow climb to the peak. O u O_

 _ **MikeV1** : The cinnamon roll god deserves nothing but the best, haha. Also, Balance has been amazing, and I'm eagerly awaiting Chapter 5, haha!_

 _Without further ado; ladies and gentlemen, I present to you tonight's play, on the acclaimed stage that we call 'madness'._

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Interlude**

 **Night Time**

* * *

 _The hallway was as quiet as it was dark. That is to say, it was absolutely silent, and close to pitch-black, with only a few rays of moonlight streaming through the clear windows, the curtains having been pulled back to the ephemeral, silvery light to flood just small portions of the hallway._

 _Candidates were confined to the south and west wings of the main castle - of course, it had been a given. The east wing, after all, was the residence of the Elites as well as the Champion, with the north hallway leading to the Tower._

 _There was no way that they'd be discovered._

 _He was silent as he walked through the ever-identical hallways, with not even the usual 'clink' of metal resounding in the quiet night - it was different, and he felt vulnerable without his weapon._

 _Even in the Indigo Plateau, no one was safe - least of all him._

 _The man paused outside an ebony door, before raising a hand to knock-_

 _But the door opened, almost automatically, and his hand was grabbed. An irritated gaze met his, and the man chuckled quietly. In his haste, he had almost forgotten about the need for secrecy, even in these quarters._

 _He turned around and began walking once more, well aware of the other's presence close behind him. Both of them made no sound while walking, and it wasn't long till they reached their intended destination._

 _The door opened with barely a sound; it took mere moments for them to grab a few towels and make their way down to the water's edge, where the towels were left in a place where they were both easily accessible and not likely to get wet._

 _Water lapped softly against the concrete walls as his dark-haired partner slipped into the pool, with only the smallest of ripples left in his wake. That challenging gaze met his own, and laughter - exhilarating laughter, of all things - threatened to escape. But he held it back, instead flashing the other his signature half-smirk._

 _A step back._

 _Taking a few running steps, he leapt, before diving into the pool with barely a splash - a dive that would put even Gorebyss to shame. Feeling the water close over him like a curtain was invigorating; he had missed being in the water, almost as much as he had missed-_

 _"William," he whispered quietly, swimming over to his partner, who fixed him with that usual intimidating gaze - harsh to all but him. A few more strokes brought them next to each other, content simply to be at each other's side._

 _'Silent as usual,' his dark-haired partner mouthed, but the absence of a cold glint in his gaze told him that it was not meant to be cutting._

 _Underwater, his hand found William's, and while the other normally would have moved away, this time was different. Their fingers intertwined, and he knew the other was trying, even if in his own awkward way._

 _It was times like these that he held close, moments where he did not have to worry about any other - moments where he could be him, and no one else._

 _The man caught sight of a small flash out the corner of his peripheral vision, but it was soon pushed into the recesses of his mind, as a hand slowly ran through his dripping blond-brown, shoulder-length locks, lightly brushing over his neck._

 _Interesting. William didn't usually like taking the initiative._

 _He let it slide, though, the gentle sounds of the water and the familiar presence of his partner slowly lulling him into a sense of security. Right now, in this moment, nothing else mattered-_

 _A sudden downward force from above forced him underwater._

 _Panic flared for a moment, adrenaline kicking in and tempting him to struggle, but he forced it down. He could hold his breath for a few minutes longer, and would use this to his advantage._

 _With a quick movement, his leg snaked around William's, his hands finding purchase on the other's waist before he pulled him down. Hands found a tight grip on his wrists, trying to get him to let go, but he was prepared for some form of escape, and simply adjusted his grip, as they sank a little deeper into the pool's depths._

 _William huffed, a few bubbles escaping to the water's surface, knowing that he wouldn't be released any time soon for his little stunt. He didn't have as much time underwater as the other did, though - if only because he hadn't expected to be dragged underwater - and was fast nearing the moment when he had to surface._

 _A low chuckle, muffled by the water, escaped past his lips, also in the form of bubbles that burst at the water's surface. Moving in a little closer, he pressed his lips to William's for just a few moments before they surfaced separately, the dark-haired man making silent attempts to catch his breath._

 _They treaded water for a little while longer after that, taking comfort in each other's presence, even if nothing was actually said. Once or twice, their fingers would accidentally meet, a small spark of electricity seemingly bursting from the point of contact when it happened. Their gazes would meet for just a fraction of a moment before they separated once more, both feeling the burden of their roles._

 _He was the first to break away; a few kicks and a little paddling brought him to the water's edge, where he pulled himself out of the pool in a single, unbroken movement. The night air was cold, and he shivered - albeit involuntarily._

 _The blond felt, rather than saw, the other's approach; without even a moment of hesitation, he picked up a towel and tossed it to the back. Picking up his own, he stood, waiting for his dark-haired partner to join him on land once again._

 _They made their way to the changing rooms in silence, drying themselves off and changing into their sleepwear - their trunks would be left in the laundry room at the first opportunity. Making their way out once more, it was William who left for his room first, to avoid too much suspicion. In all honesty, it was most likely that they had been discovered, but at least for now, he could still pretend that everything would work out fine._

 _His gaze darted across the room, pausing on the bleachers for just a moment, before he too left._

 _The room was silent once more, save for the sound of water gently lapping against concrete. Slowly, a head wearing a breathing apparatus emerged from underneath the water's surface._

 _"Ah, it looks like I was nearly caught, wasn't I?"_

* * *

He rolled around in his nest of pillows, eventually discarding them for a single blanket. Almost wearily, his gaze shifted to the digital clock on the wall - 23:57.

With a sigh, the black-haired teen rolled over, before once again attempting to get some rest.

But sleep didn't come easy.

* * *

 _In a different room, hidden also behind an ebony door, another discussion was taking place._

 _"The rebels have infiltrated the tournament as expected." She sighed, drumming her fingers on the desk. The room was soundproof anyway; she could scream and yell and no one would be the wiser._

 _Except for the man seated opposite her, naturally._

 _"That's because we let them." He stated calmly, interlocking his fingers. "The tournament is a good way to force them to show their hand, is it not?"_

 _"But aren't we running too much of a risk here?" she questioned, pressing on even when her companion shook his head. "We absolutely cannot let Kanto fall into rebel hands."_

 _"Then all we have to do is to make sure that those working for the League wins, is it not that simple?" Seriously, why did people always insist on making a mountain out of a molehill? The man sighed to himself, the little puff of air frosting a small portion of his clear tempered glass desk._

 _She refrained from rolling her eyes; why didn't anyone else take this issue seriously? "The General will have picked his forces well. We cannot afford unnecessary losses."_

 _A quiet laugh._

 _"All we have to do is to arrange a little… accident." Rolling the blue Ultra Ball between fingers, he glanced at her. "Think you can handle that much?"_

 _It was phrased as a question, but she knew better than that. With a slight bow, she excused herself and left the room._

 _The door swung closed behind her, blocking out the sound of her companion's soft chuckling, a quiet click marking the moment it was automatically locked._

 _Her mouth was set in a thin line, and while no sound escaped her aside from booted footfalls, if she could, she'd be cursing non-stop._

 _Why were all of them higher-ups so… unconcerned? This wasn't just a security issue, this was a security breach of the highest order!_

 _Unless..._

 _It hit her like a bolt from the blue, and she paused, right there in the middle of the hallway. "That's because we **let** them…" she whispered, the realisation making her skin crawl - with fear or anticipation, she couldn't tell._

 _And the reason why the rebels were allowed to infiltrate, was because-_

 _Her skin was pale, almost alabaster, under the moonlight as she swiftly turned around, having changed her destination. No, it simply would not do if anyone else were to find out about this._

 _Especially the rebels._

 _She had to keep this information to herself, no matter the cost._

 _A note would be sent out to all relevant parties next dawn, before the tournament began. All their allies and supporters would also have to be informed - there was no room for error._

 _The gamemaker had dealt the cards, and the General had shown his hand - it was now time for her to do the same._

 _Except for one thing._

 _She couldn't afford to lose._

* * *

The night was dark, but his door opened without a sound. Butterfree was still asleep - not that Max could blame her, it was late in the night, after all.

Or was it early in the morning?

The digital clock on the wall read 00:03; not quite the best time to be up. It was strange, though. Usually, he'd sleep like a log till dawn, so why was tonight different?

It must be all the luxury, the teen surmised. The room itself was uncomfortable, and the atmosphere here in the Plateau was no better.

In silence, Max closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the dark corridors - a walk, and maybe some fresh air, would no doubt do him some good.

Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, giving the shadowed hallways an ephemeral look. A closer glance around showed silver nameplates on the ebony doors of the many staterooms, including his own.

Come to think of it, he mused, it might be a good idea to know the names of my opponents.

The teen approached the door on the far right, counting the names as he moved past.

 _Matthews, Alastair_

 _Lewis, Alister_

 _Evans, Anton_

 _Cross, Atlas_

 _Candeloro, Blaise_

 _Christopher, Bryon_

 _Damien, Carl_

 _K. Chikae_

 _Hibiki, Cid_

 _Achlys, Cora_

 _Everett, Launa_

 _Pierce, LeAnna_

 _Wing, Li Jun_

 _Rogers, Max_

 _Fletcher, Miles_

 _Porter, Oliver_

 _Fournier, Reuben_

 _Ilias, Rhode_

 _Cyrille, Saber_

 _Endon, Thanatos_

 _Pique, Thomas_

 _Moore, Verona_

 _Twenty two candidates exactly… Wait,_ Max gulped, _I'm next to… Miles?_

Almost involuntarily, the black-haired teen shuddered. He'd rather not imagine what the announcer was like in the privacy of his room, and he sure as heck hoped that the walls were thick enough that he didn't ever have to find out. Because honestly, the chances of Miles commentating to the furniture were rather high, and he really didn't need to be scarred for life, thank you very much.

Come to think of it, though, the order of the roster was a little weird. Instead of being sorted alphabetically by their last names, they had been sorted alphabetically by their first names.

… eh, he was probably reading too much into it.

A cold draft blew by, causing Max to shiver a little. It was to be expected, however, given the lateness of the hour - and no doubt due in part to the ice-type Pokémon that were definitely present in the Plateau. _If that Froslass is loose, I swear I'm going to ask Thomas to burn the place down. Because, no fucks given, right?_

Heck, he could probably blame the whole architectural whatsit. There was nothing wrong with a simple hut that retained heat it absorbed from the day, so why did people build mansions and castles again?

 _Probably to show off their ego_ , his mind answered back, and he smirked. _So, does Miles have an entire castle dedicated to his name?_

No reply there, but at least he got a good laugh out of it. Not that it made a world of difference, that was. Alone in the hallways, wandering like some lost child at the fair… those kinds of situations tended to put one in a slump.

 _How joyful_ , he chuckled unamusedly, _given that this precisely describes my situation right about now._

The teen paused. _Were those… the sound of footsteps?_

Pulse racing, he counted to three in silence, immediately turning the corner as he did so, hand poised to draw an arrow from his quiver.

Only that he didn't have his quiver, and there was absolutely no one in the hallway.

"False alarm, I guess…" He sighed, running a hand through his black hair. _I really wish Butterfree was with me right now…_

Turning around, the teen made his way back through the hallways, intending to rush back to his stateroom. It wouldn't do for him to be caught outside at such an unearthly hour, with no adequate explanation aside from 'I couldn't sleep'.

His footsteps seemed to echo, reverberating in the silence of the night. It wasn't quite midnight - which had long since passed - but somehow, the sky was still colored in black and navy, studded with the occasional diamond star.

It was almost like the sky he used to see, back at home.

 _It really is true, huh? No matter how far I go, I still see the same sky…_

"Oof!"

Turning a corner, he collided with something - or rather, someone - rather painfully. Rubbing his head, he looked up to see a familiar face.

"Ow...Watch where you're going, Maxie." Miles groaned, getting up and dusting off his front. "I'd hate to mistake you for an intruder and cause you to miss the big day tomorrow."

"Yes, well," the black-haired teen deadpanned, "I'd hate to miss the tournament, but to be found piecemeal on the floor sounds worse, you know?"

The older male laughed. "If only I could do that, but no. Unlike a certain bitch I had the misfortune of meeting earlier today, I do not enjoy carrying bladed weapons."

"...Huh." Blinking, he stared at Miles. "Are you sure you're Miles Fletcher? Like, absolutely a hundred percent sure?" _How can such a guy not carry around a huge axe or something?_

"Yes. Also, a huge axe? Why would I be carrying something like that?"

 _Can my thoughts not just stay thoughts?_ "Because… it seems to fit you more? Like, those kind of guys who smile as they chop people into tiny unrecognizable bits?"

Miles looked insulted. "That would be miss Achlys you're thinking of. I'm just a commentator and that's about it."

"...So we actually do have psychopaths here." Max gulped audibly, now really wishing that he had brought his bow and arrows out - not that they'd do much at close range. "I don't suppose I can still back out of the tournament...?" _Stupid question, really. 5/7, Max. 5/7._

"Yeah- no. You don't see me backing out, now do you?" Miles smiled cheshirely. "I mean, I'm just a commentator - you'd think my first instinct would be to protest, but it's not like there's a choice. I'm committed to bringing the audience of Kanto only the best entertainment in the world, and if I have to place myself in the line of fire, so be it."

 _That was almost… awe-inspiring. But then again, this is Miles I'm talking to._ "Yes, well-"

"Anyways, if I were you, I'd stay in my room, or somewhere else safe."

Max blinked, before nodding. "Um, yeah. Okay. Goodnight, then." The last had been tacked on just like any afterthought, and had almost sounded like a question - keyword being almost.

With a whoosh, the door closed, and Max realized he was alone again.

"Rude." He muttered, sounding very much like Butterfree for once. It was with the unwilling compliance of one who recognized a good point, disliked it and followed it anyway, that Max returned to his room, locking the door behind him just in case.

It never hurt to be a little more careful.

* * *

 _"Clear?" He asked quietly._

 _"All clear," was the low reply from the man who had his ear pressed to the door. "The hallway is silent, and two doors have just closed shut."_

 _A snort of barely disguised impatience reached all ears, the only female in the room earning herself a disapproving look. "That's all well and good, but I don't see how you managed to escape the guards."_

 _Her gaze challenged him to give an answer, and he obliged, albeit with a small sigh. "They were… otherwise occupied."_

 _"Woah, woah, slow down. Too much information there, you know?" Moving from his position at the door, the dark-haired man flopped onto his bed, crossing his legs as he sat. "Besides, I don't need to know the details - just the plan."_

 _He chuckled a little, running a hand through his short hair as he stared at the mantelpiece. "We can't exactly do anything, you know? After all, we're missing one person here."_

 _"One person will not make a difference." The female muttered, fingering a small can. "If she jeopardizes this, I'll take care of her."_

 _"... Very well." He nodded, biting his lip. He didn't like throwing people to the wolves, but there was nothing to be done. Their ally had gotten a message stating that she couldn't risk escaping her guard, especially as it involved the covers of multiple people. "Regarding the tournament tomorrow; is everything in place?"_

 _Two nods were his only reply, but it was good enough. They just needed enough people to make it through, but even without their tampering, it shouldn't be a problem._

 _They were selected for the job for good reason._

 _"Then, may Arceus look favorably upon us."_

 _"May tomorrow be also the day that we…" The dark-haired man paused. "You know what? Never mind. I'm not going to jinx it."_

 _A bark of cold laughter was heard, before the female left the room. "Live with it. Tomorrow we win - or we die in the process."_

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _This was supposed to be an Interlude, but it ended up being a shorter chapter. Then I switched it back to being an Interlude (despite the obvious presence of a small chapter segment), because I just can't make up my mind._

 _Not really._

 _Interludes are basically a record of things that happen between chapters. They may or may not be important, but it is for certain that they are here for the general amusement. O W O_

 _Also, the Max/Miles ship is probably going to sail. I mean, they're practically next to each other (through no intentional fault of mine) - I did put them in alphabetical order by names, after all._

 _There's also the possibility that this entire chapter was just an excuse for me to ship Max/Miles because they're actually kind of there. Aside from that, however, there's the Max/Blaise, the Miles/Blaise, Saber/Brittany and a few others. Most of them are crack ships, but hey, it makes this story a little more light-hearted. O A O_

 _And let's not forget the Butterfree/Froslass bromance - or is it sismance, haha?_

 _Speaking of that, well… who turned off the lights? Q A Q_

 _Until next time, ciao! (O u O)/_

 _Next time on Crossroads: **Roulette**_


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N:_

 _To the new players; welcome. To returning players; welcome back. It's finally time for the long awaited beginning of the Tournament._ _May the odds be ever in your favor. -Sky_

 _And you thought that Hunger Games reference was forced. -SD_

 _Oh come on. -Sky_

 _Keep calm and chill, guys. -Emo_

 _EDIT: Also I am a Scatterbug- I mean, scatterbrained author for forgetting the most important thing. Review replies! (So here they are omg please forgive me)_

 _ **blazelight790** \- You know what I've said, but hey, never hurts to answer again. O u O Like I said, don't ever trust the protagonist, even if he is your own character, ha. That's mainly because I'm the author, and well, if Launa is suspicious to her own creator, who's to say I've not been secretly trolling everyone? And Max/Miles is a thing, confirmed._

 ** _Aviator_ _Capi_** _\- Thank you, thank you. Though that'll come when it does, so for now, I hope you enjoy watching the tournament. :3c_

 ** _Kuro Shikaku_** _\- Did I mention quite a few of them are canon fodder? It would be a waste of good characters to die so quickly... though I can't promise the same for Volok. But thankfully, his time on the chopping block is not quite here yet, so it'll be a while... O w O_

 ** _WereDragon_ _EX_** _\- New update, coming through! Brittany is quite the character, yes, but she's the most convenient person for now. I'm still in two minds whether I want her to be the 'default' League protagonist or not, or if I'll even have one at all, since Max (so far) is doing quite an okay job. Still, this chapter doesn't go quite fast in terms of plot, but then again, it's the Tournament, not political trainer battles, lol._

 ** _WolFang1011/Amadeus_** _\- You'd be surprised at the number of people who would do that, really. Heh. Also, new crack ship on board - MilAxe. Done. Nailed it. Not quite MilAx, but it'll do. Reuben's battle... next chapter, maybe. If I'm fast enough. :3c No promises though!_

 ** _Guest_** _\- It does, actually, and thank you for the anticipation! I hereby present the fifth chapter..._

 ** _MikeV1_** _\- No worries, no worries. **Balance** is looking really great, by the way. Thumbs up for that! Hopefully your questions about the Roulette are answered this chapter... pfft, of course they will be. This is Roulette after all; what goes around, comes around._

 ** _Trainer_ _Naps_** _\- This is not quite dystopian, but there is a ruling authority all the same. If you want a truly dystopian story, however, SD has a story of his own titled **Phantom's Crown Crusade: Redux** , and honestly speaking, it's good. That is, if you don't mind catching up to over 60k words of story. :'3c_

 _Now, onwards!_

* * *

 **Chapter 5**

 **Roulette**

* * *

Max was awake even before dawn rose, having gotten little sleep after returning to his room (for the second time) last night. Not that it was because of the luxury that surrounded him, but rather because of the constant repetitions of last night's events in his mind.

 _I probably should have gotten a little more sleep…_ the teen yawned, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he did so. Rolling out of his little nest on the floor, Max headed for the windows, where a quick tug pulled away the curtains, and a gentle push opened them.

The scent of nature was prevalent, the sky still stained by dark hues of blue and black, with a small spark of gold fire in the east, slowly igniting the dawn. As if colored by fire, the trailing white wisps of cloud faintly shone amber, tinted with the pale pink of sunrise.

It was a picturesque scene, and one that implied a new beginning, symbolized hope.

Golden, just like the opportunity that had been presented to him.

The irony was not lost on the black-haired teen, however. Especially if the significance of today was taken into account.

He knew better than to hope, given that the tournament would begin this morning. _It's plain foolishness to reach for the stars,_ Max mused, _because you can't touch the clouds no matter what you do - you'd just fall right through._

He stood there in silence by the open windows - a fresh breeze blowing, ruffling his hair on its way in - as he watched the sunrise. It was still far too early to be headed for the dining hall, and in all honesty, he didn't want to be the first one there.

It also wasn't as if he had anything better to do, and he'd rather let Butterfree sleep in a little.

The golden disc rose slowly, its rays of light bathing the castle grounds, covering the area in a layer of gild. A few rays illuminated the teen's visage by the open window, casting a shadow behind him but lighting up all else in hues of burning orange.

Max frowned; in a few hours' time, he would be down there in the courtyard, locked in what would quite possibly be a death battle. _Am I really ready for this?_

 _Nope,_ his mind quipped back, and the teen nodded appreciatively. This wasn't something one could prepare for, really - and only a fool would be anticipating participation.

…So why did Carl come to mind?

Suppressing a chuckle, Max crossed the room. Tracing a finger along his Butterfree's wings, the teen smiled as he saw her stir, fluttering her wings a little to get away from the ticklish feeling.

Not that he was going to let her get away with so little.

Barely hiding a grin, the teen paused in his actions, before tugging at her antennae.

The effect was instantaneous; Butterfree shot into the air, ripping herself from the intrusive grasp - before crashing into the ceiling. _"Ugh…"_

"You okay, Butterfree?" Max managed to ask between laughs, being replied in turn by his rudely-awakened, very vexed partner.

 _"Yeah- no. Of course not, silly."_ She huffed, showing her dissatisfaction with the black-haired teen by whacking him on the head with a wing - gently, of course.

She would never hurt Max, intentionally or no.

… Well, she'd try not to, at the very least.

Sensing his partner's change in mood, Max patted her on the head. "Sorry about the wake up call, but you were sleeping so soundly that I just couldn't help myself." The resultant glare shot his way was nothing short of petrifying, but the teen merely laughed. "Shall we go for breakfast, then?"

 _"I suppose that is an acceptable decision, yes."_ Butterfree could never stay mad at her trainer for long, and acquiesced to follow Max out the room, despite her urge to go back to sleep.

 _It's too early to deal with this kind of shit…_

* * *

The hallway was now lighted; in fact, it was as brightly-lit as it was during the day. Max closed his room door, the click it made as it locked automatically sounding surprisingly satisfying.

He didn't carry much with him to the Plateau - only his bow, quiver of arrows and a spare quiver. The black-haired teen had assumed, rightly, that a change of clothes would be provided - and while he hadn't guessed that they would be exactly the same as the ones he usually wore, he wasn't complaining.

After some deliberation, Max had decided to leave his spare quiver in the room. _After all, if I lose, it's not as if I'll need it any longer._

It was a gloomy thought.

Now more familiar with the hallways, Max walked with confidence, Butterfree close behind him. "Are you ready?" He questioned, not really expecting an answer from his partner - indeed, she didn't give him one.

The black-haired teen was replied by another, however.

"Can anyone truly be ready for what lies ahead?"

Startled, Max turned around sharply. Standing a little ways off was an Electivire and a person taller than him by just a few inches. Pale grey hair, almost a shade of white, was tied back in a high ponytail, with bangs framing a slender face and a pair of purple eyes.

"I apologise," the other male looked a tad guilty. "I seem to have startled you."

"Yes, indeed." Max nodded - a slight movement that showed his mild irritation. _What gave you that idea, genius?_

Surprisingly, however, the other male only looked guiltier. "Again, I'm really sorry."

 _"Ahem."_ The Thunderbolt Pokémon placed a hand on his companion's shoulder comfortingly, but the cold glare it shot Max did not go unnoticed by its trainer. "Maximus!"

 _"For an Electric Pokémon, you sure can be quite cold. Thankfully, the irony isn't as bad as it would be if you had been a Fire-type."_ Butterfree quipped, nudging Max in the opposite direction. _"I hope we never meet again; farewell!"_

"H-Hey, Butterfree-!" Max shoved back, but in the end gave in, and allowed himself to be pushed away. "I hope to see you around sometime…?"

"Cid." The other stated, with a small wave. He was replied with a small smile before Max was pushed out of sight.

 _They were right about that Butterfree._ Maximus began walking, nudging his pale-haired charge towards the courtyard. _Still, annoying or no, she may prove to be of some danger._

 _I defer to your judgement._ Cid Hibiki nodded, violet eyes not leaving the hallway where Max had made his exit. _Though…_

 _Yes?_

 _The boy… for some reason, he looks familiar._ The action of retying his ponytail was quick, even as the man causally navigated through the hallways. _A bit too familiar, in fact._

Cid knew he didn't need to think it out loud - Maximus too was more than capable of putting the two and two together. Besides, even if he hadn't, it would take mere seconds for him to do so.

 _I see._ Maximus pondered the thought, a few sparks flying from his two tails. _We could always ask just to be sure._

Having reached their intended destination, no more was said on the subject by human or Pokémon.

It didn't mean that they wouldn't be watching, however.

* * *

The hall could only be called rather empty at best - not that he could blame the other candidates. Max entered the dining hall slowly, Butterfree trailing behind. While I don't particularly feel like eating, fighting on an empty stomach might actually be worse.

A wry smile touched the teen's lips. At the very least, vomit can be used as a projectile, but hopefully, it never comes to that.

Taking the same seat he took yesterday, Max let his gaze travel to the table's other occupants. Three Elites… and six candidates, including myself. As usual, the table had been set for 27 people, but lesser places had been filled.

Butterfree, as usual, headed to the spot at the back reserved for the Pokémon, rather pleased that there was no sign of the Clefable. Unfortunately, though, there too was no sign of her new friend, Froslass.

"Good morning, Max." was the greeting accompanied by a raised hand from Samuel Troy, in his usual seat at the immediate left of the head of the table. The teen replied the greeting a tad awkwardly, feeling the gazes of the other two Elites on him - the brooding dark brown gaze of Enoch Maxwell, and the dismissive golden amber gaze of Volok Karnith who sat next to the aforementioned Elite.

The disconcerting feeling soon abated, however, the tension in the air did not. _At least,_ Max mused, _the breakfast is just as good as the dinner last night._ It was simple fare compared to the extravagant steak of yesterday - oh who was he kidding, somehow scrambled eggs and waffles tasted like a slice of heaven.

 _"Max? Get up, won't you? It's time for breakfast!" Without fail, he would be woken up at six in the morning daily to the smell of breakfast, courtesy of his mother - and to vigorous shaking, courtesy of his father._

 _"Nnngh-" The boy's yawn was cut short as he was hauled down the stairs in a fireman's lift, over the shoulder of aforementioned father. In childish retaliation, Max huffed, pulling at his father's black locks and earning himself a yelp. "More sleep."_

 _An amused laugh, even as his head was gently patted. "Would you prefer waffles or toast, Max?" Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, Max noticed, also reaching out a small hand to grab her long hair. "Waffles."_

 _"Woah, woah - Nicole, you wound me!" His father mock-pouted, but his sapphire gaze was laughing. "Don't I get my omelette? Or at least fried eggs in general?"_

 _"For taking so long to bring Max down, no, you don't." A smirk touched Nicole Rogers' lips as she turned back to the stove to check on the waffles, flipping her hair as she did so, earning giggles from her son. "Ah… they're almost done."_

 _Max was placed in his chair as his hair was affectionately ruffled. "Remember, kiddo," David Rogers grinned, "always thank the chef after a great meal." He made a big show of glancing around, before conspiratorily winking. "Especially if the chef is your mom," was the stage-whisper, and the result was a frying pan to the head, courtesy of an irate Nicole. "Excuse me?"_

 _The child laughed._

"My compliments to the chef," he muttered quietly, a small sad smile barely touching his lips. Those flashbacks really picked an awkward time to arise, didn't they?

A small dismissive snort was heard from the tall, lean man seated next to him - Charizard-dude. His black hair was tapered short at the sides and back, with the rest slicked towards the back; green eyes met his own as the other leaned back into his chair. "Why do you even care whether or not to compliment the damn chef?"

Max blinked, before coming up with a reply. "It's only polite to thank the chef after a meal, since they did put in effort. Especially if the dish is good."

A sigh, but strangely, Max couldn't hear any trace of exasperation. "Giving too many fucks in life brings about either too many distractions, or an utter downfall."

"Yes, well, that's your opinion." The teen huffed. "Besides, don't you think it's a little weird for me to be taking lessons on philosophy from a stranger?"

The other shrugged, closing his eyes, almost as if taking a nap. "I honestly don't give a fuck, but if it bothers you that much - the name's Thomas Pique."

"Also known as Charizard-dude. Don't worry, I got it." As soon as the words left his mouth, Max regretted it. How was he going to explain that he had spied on the other arguing with Carl from a floor above…?

Thomas merely snorted. "Dunno how I got so famous, seeing as I don't usually give a fuck. Must be that damned Lucien showing off again."

"Lucien?" Max questioned, to which "My Charizard buddy." was the simple answer.

Max pondered for a few seconds. "You know, you actually sound like a lazy ass."

"I'm not lazy. I prefer the term _selective participation_." Opening a single eye, Thomas stared back, the slight incline to an eyebrow being the only hint of his amusement.

It was apparent that the look on Max's face betrayed his lack of understanding, so he proceeded to continue, "In my life, I have given a fuck about many people and many things. I have also not given a fuck about many people and many things. And those fucks I have _not_ given have made all the difference."

"Well, then here's one fuck you might want to give."

Miles strolled in nonchalantly, Rosalina right behind him - instinctively, Butterfree flew under the table. "If you swear too goddamn much on camera and force my editing team to have to censor you out, I'll make sure you can't give any more fucks, got it?" he deadpanned.

"...fuck you." Thomas quipped, flipping the bird at the announcer.

"Is that an offer? I could always tell the press that you're a horndog - not unlike Mr. Cyrille, but at least he knew when to quit." Miles commented back.

A loud sigh, but it was clearly tinged with mock-annoyance. "Fucks are cultivated like a beautiful fucking garden, where if you fuck shit up and the fucks get fucked, then you've fucking fucked your fucks all the fuck up." Thomas took a breath, before continuing. "Basically - say what you want. I don't give a fuck. That being said, go fuck yourself."

The room fell rather silent. Max turned his attention to Miles - or at least where he had been standing. The announcer was instead now by the other end of the table and chatting amiably to a certain Blaise Candeloro, giving absolutely no indication that he had heard the man.

"...Mr. Pique, I would ask that you refrain from further swearing during the tournament." Volok intoned quietly, a smile playing on his lips. "The League may be some things, but we are _not_ tolerant of foul-mouthed, crude, disgusting whelps like you. Now, kindly zip your mouth, or we shall have to see how you enjoy life being made to look like a Banette. _Permanently_."

The temperature in the room felt like it had dropped by several degrees. Thomas rolled his eyes, but accordingly said no more - he gave no fucks, but even he knew when he had gone too far.

He didn't need to lose his head so early, after all.

"..." Max blinked. _To think that Volok's actually a year younger than me,_ he mused. _Scary thought, really._

The rest of breakfast passed rather uneventfully, with the occasional candidate dropping in for some food before they headed out. In fact, possibly the only event highlight was a flash of fire bursting through the doors, rushing around the table before vanishing out the room at an equally breakneck speed.

Not Break-Neck speed, that is, _breakneck_ speed.

After the coughs and smoke died down did they finally all realize that an extra portion of waffles was gone.

 _Again, the Rapidash._ Max shook his head, having given up on the Flame Horse Pokémon and its enigma of a trainer. _Is Atlas really that excited for today…?_

The sound of a chair being pushed back told him that someone had stood - a quick glance confirmed it to be Samuel, as expected.

"Since everyone is done here, let us proceed to the courtyard."

A few nods of acknowledgement, as some Pokémon returned to their trainers' sides, others to their Pokéballs.

"Hey," Max whispered, seeing Butterfree fly over. "How was breakfast?"

She didn't reply him, only fluttering her wings agitatedly, as they followed the odd procession outside.

* * *

The rest of the candidates were already waiting - some not even bothering to hide their weapons, others dressed in slightly different attire.

"Is everyone accounted for?" Samuel questioned, not even waiting for an answer before motioning for Volok to follow him.

The brunet did so, but a quiet cough drew all attention. "If you would be so kind as to wait for a few moments," began the butler. "Masters Samuel and Volok have gone to fetch the roulette and cards."

"Eh, is the Plateau a casino now? Does the best gambler ascend the throne?" questioned Carl, earning himself a laugh from Blaise and a dismissive snort from Thomas.

"For Arceus' sake, shut your Phish Food trap, won't you?" Launa yelled, waving an arm. "I'm underage here, hello!"

"Not our issue, really." was the comment accompanied by a shrug from the petite tanned lady with a maroon braid that fell to waist length. The Fennekin in her arms seemed to agree, despite sneezing out a few embers.

"And we're back," was the interruption from Samuel. "All Pokémon back in their balls, please - the balls go to the roulette in Volok's hands." The blond man carried a small box in a single hand, majestically ignoring the glare the brunet teen was sending his way.

A loud chorus of "What?" and "Why?!" broke out almost instantaneously; amidst the noise, Max tensed up, hand reaching out just to simply touch his partner.

He couldn't be separated from her.

 _"Hey… it's all going to be okay."_ Butterfree let herself descend to his eye level, her compound eyes meeting Max's brown ones. _"Do whatever you must to become the Champion, and then… find him. Find your father."_

 _Even if it means battling without me by your side._

Max took in a shaky breath - since when had he stopped? He might not understand the Pokémon language, but he could tell that she was trying to reassure him. "I don't know if I can do this, Butterfree. We've not parted ever since we became partners; I can't just battle with anyone else-"

"I apologise for the intrusion," was a very familiar voice, along with a hand on his shoulder. It was Blaise. "But really - it's not just you going through this, you know. In the end, it all goes down to how badly you want that Championship."

Her irises darkened as the witch looked at the Dusk Ball in her hand - a press of the button, and the ball shrunk to its more compact form. "Think about it. Do you want that power bad enough that you're willing to battle without your partner?" With that said, she walked to where Volok was standing - a few people were already there, depositing their Pokéballs in the roulette, which was spun every time a new Ball was placed in.

Max was silent for a few moments.

Butterfree looked at Max expectantly; he shook his head. "I'm not willing battle without you." The teen stated resolutely, holding out her Pokéball. "But still, I'll do it. And when I find him, he'd better appreciate this."

 _He'd better, or I'll pummel him._

 _"That's the spirit."_ Butterfree returned to her ball in a flash of red light, the Pokéball shrinking a few moments after. Now clasping the miniature ball in his hand, Max walked to Volok, noting that he was the last person to do so.

Brown eyes met amber ones; with the barest hint of an acknowledging nod, Volok offered him the roulette. "Spin it."

Once again feeling all eyes on him, the black-haired teen dropped the Pokéball - dropped his partner - into the roulette, before closing his eyes and spinning the device.

The metallic clack of the Balls bumping into each other slowed, as they finally settled down into a slot each. He couldn't bear to look - hurriedly, Max backed away, bumping into someone. "Sorry-"

"No worries." A knowing smile on his face, Samuel offered him the box. "Take your pick, then go back to Volok and collect the Pokéball in that slot."

Feeling like he had just signed an agreement with the devil, Max did as instructed, pulling out a single card. Taking a glance at it, the black-haired teen raised an eyebrow.

 _IX. the Hermit._

"So, slot n-"

A stubby paw over his mouth stopped the rest of his sentence. Horrified, Max backed away from the Ampharos - Ampere - now in front of him. She took a long hard look at him, almost as if warning him to keep quiet.

Nodding frantically, Max headed back to Volok - who, he noted, was now in a silent conversation with Enoch that consisted of subtle nuances. Reaching out a hand-

"Are you kidding me?" was the anguished question from Carl. "Youngest to oldest, and in terms of alphabetical order? I'll be the last at this rate!"

"Hurry up." was the statement; with a jerky nod, Max grabbed the Dusk Ball in slot nine, before walking to the far end of the gathered group - still within audible range, but not close enough to join the majority of the group.

The dark Ball itself rattled in his hands, and he felt its inhabitant do...something. Whatever it was, the weak jolt of electricity didn't do much other than make the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

 _An Electric-type, huh? I wonder what exactly it will be._

He hadn't seen very many Electric-types over the course of his stay, after all - the sole exception had been Samuel's Ampharos, and he wasn't in the tournament, so she would likely not make an appearance on the battlefield.

Others too went to collect their new 'partners', until at last - only two people were left.

"Eh." Samuel blinked, before bypassing Atlas, and offering the box to the short-haired lady. "Ladies first." was the statement, earning laughter and quite a few snickers - no doubt courtesy of a Mr. Carl Ericsson and a Mr. Thomas Pique. Atlas himself gave the blond man a look that spoke volumes, before drawing the last card - not that he needed to, really.

"Looks like someone is butthurt," was a giggle from Launa, to which there was no reply.

 _Wow. Either he's taking the swapped partner thing really hard, or he's actually a party pooper._

The last ball was taken - a Dusk Ball, Max noted - before the roulette was taken away.

"If you would please vacate the field?" It was phrased as a question by the butler, but no one was under the illusion that it was such. That would be, after all, plain foolishness.

"Wheelie, left field. Skids, right. Mudflap, down the middle, give us a nice panoramic view." Miles called out, and the equipment was accordingly hauled to the appropriate locations - cameras, stands, mics and all - by Magnemite, no less.

Placing a hand to his ear, the black-haired man tapped a button. "Get as much footage as you can, and if I have to redub it later, then so be it."

"Okay, okay; let's move, people. You as well, Miles." Samuel was finally sounding exasperated, but a jab from his Ampharos soon changed that. "Seriously, Ampere, not you too?"

Max followed the rest accordingly, his gaze never leaving the courtyard that was currently being cleared for battle. That was, if cleared for battle meant being swept by a team of highly efficient enforcers - _what_.

"They're like maids." Carl commented casually, causing Thomas to snort. "Why the fuck are they not in skirts then, dumbass?" Both earned themselves dirty glares from the enforcers, though by virtue of the darkened visor, nothing was seen.

"Mr. Pique; if I have to remind you one more time to watch your language-"

"Ahem." Samuel coughed, quite clearly signalling for the two to shut up, and for Volok to calm down - though was instead handed a packet from the aforementioned brunet Elite standing next to him. "Cough drops." Volok stated blandly, but to Max's surprise, the blond Elite hurriedly shook his head, declining the offer.

Many more minutes of general restlessness later, the enforcers had finished sweeping the courtyard, leaving it absolutely spotless. _They should really be a private cleaning company,_ the black-haired teen mused, _everyone would be hiring them._

"Master Karnith, Master Samuel?" The butler questioned. "Your votes?"

The teen frowned a little; he didn't like putting thought into things like these. A waste of effort, really, when he had other jobs to be done. "Ten."

"Understood." The butler nodded. "Master Samuel?"

"Eh…" Aforementioned man sighed, for the first time, Max saw Samuel Troy look disappointed - but at whom or what, he didn't know. "Zero."

A slow nod, before the butler spoke once more. "The Fool and The Wheel of Fortune. Will contenders zero and ten both please step onto the field?"

A moment of silence, before a very familiar - not to mention grating - voice filled the gap.

"Wow, I'm going straight into the action!" Miles laughed uproariously, before stepping forward, twirling a Heavy Ball. "I'll be double-teaming commentating, so get as many angles as you can, and pay attention, got it? Now, who's my opponent?"

Without a word, a silver-haired man stepped onto the field, a small grimace visible on his face. In his hands, clutched loosely, was a white ball that Max vaguely recognised to be a Premier Ball; slung across his back was a sheathed katana.

"Anton!"

The ball in someone's hands had burst open in a flash of silver light, with a Persian landing gracefully on the ground on all fours. "Damn it, Anton, don't you dare lose, not without me!"

The albino young man who had held the Luxury Ball containing the Persian sighed, running a hand through windswept white locks. "Why do I always get the weird ones?" Saber groaned. "Couldn't I have just stuck with Spark?"

Aforementioned contender Anton had also turned around, meeting the gaze of his partner with a small nod and a smile, no doubt meant to reassure.

The Persian let out an exasperated huff, but didn't retreat into his ball.

Meanwhile, Miles' frown had returned, though Max noticed it wasn't directed at the boy or his cat. Rather, it was directed at the Premier Ball...

A glint from above drew all eyes; careening through the sky, the Skarmory's feathers sliced through the air as it circled once, twice, before flying into the topmost floor of the tower.

 _The Champion's room…_

"Eh, now that Wyn's finally shown some sign that she's still alive and kicking, and hasn't yet died of boredom in that stuffy tower," Samuel commented airily. "Let us begin the first round of the tournament."

The butler nodded. "Will both contestants please reveal their respective partners?"

Wordlessly, Miles released the contents of his ball. A large, metallic serpentine Pokémon with body segments that resembled boulders was released onto the field in a flash of white light.

"Woah, I'm up first? Wicked awesome!" The Steelix turned to one of the other contestants, and flashed a large smile that made everyone but the girl in question cringe. "I'm gonna make ya proud, alright?!"

Chikae K. (nobody ever knew what the K stood for and the whole family declined to comment on it) smiled, and flashed him a big thumbs-up. "You go, Stahl! Let's bring the house down, even if it's the big stupid doo-doo head who has to do it for me!"

"Big?" Miles repeated offhandedly. Uncharacteristically, he looked...serious.

 _But why?_

Taking a deep breath, Anton tossed the Premier Ball, which burst open in a burst of white light, the now-open ball falling with a clatter to the ground.

And in an instant, everything made sense.

 _"I am not used to facing Miles…"_ Rosa murmured, though no one but her could hear it. _"This may not be our lucky day…"_

"Rosa."

She looked up. There was no trace of her master's usual smile. "Are you comfortable with doing this?" he asked. "If you aren't, say it right now. I'll forfeit."

 _"No, Miles, you know I can't let you."_ She walked forward, jumped and levitated in the air, touching their foreheads together. _"We fight, and one of us will win. That is just how our luck should go. Please do not go easy for me."_

 _Dear Arceus,_ Max grimaced. _What are the odds?_ This match would end in a total curbstomp, that much he could be sure of.

It was a Steelix against a Clefable, after all. And not just any Clefable, either.

 _Never thought I'd ever be feeling sorry for Miles of all people._ Max winced, sure that everyone else was feeling the same. Having to fight his own partner...

His blood soon ran cold, a certain realisation having finally hit him like a bolt from the blue. _What if…_

 _What if I have to fight Butterfree?_

"The rules are as follows: the battle ends only when one side is no longer able to continue battle, or yields." Surprisingly, the butler was now reading off a piece of paper, almost as if performing from a script. "If the trainer is unable to continue, the match will also be declared over."

"If both trainers are unable to continue, both will be disqualified." Volok added, disregarding the stern glare sent his way by Enoch. "Since Enoch obviously has nothing to add-"

 _He obviously does!_ Max facepalmed, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't the only one.

"-then, contenders, any last words?"

Anton drew his katana in silence, save for the quiet shing of metal. "Anton says good luck, you irritating announcer." The Persian pronounced, looking grim. "But personally, no. Just _no_. I hope you lose."

Gesturing for a microphone, he was handed one from his crew. "Mic check. Test. Alright, guys, it's time to roll the cameras." Miles breathed in deeply, before his sombre expression was suddenly replaced with another large smile. "We begin today with a very interesting predicament - for the first time in forever, you'll get to see someone attempt to multitask three actions at once!"

Withdrawing a small stick, he pressed the button on its side, and immediately, the telescoping staff expanded to its full length. Turning to Anton, his grin hardened. "May the better man win, Mr. Evans. I'll be sure to send you flowers."

Heterochromatic eyes - both blue and green - narrowed. Tightening his grip on his blade of choice, Anton nodded stiffly once.

The butler nodded. "Then, let the battle begin!"

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **The Metronomic Mic, Miles Fletcher VS The Silent Thorn, Anton Evans**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

 _He's fast._ Miles tch'd, having just dodged a quick stab as soon as the battle started. But no matter. He swung his staff, not bothering to see if contact was made - the ear-piercing _clash_ of metal told him all he needed to know. "Both parties immediately go on the offensive!"

Anton frowned, but ducked under the next blow of the staff; aiming a feint, he let the blade fall before catching it in his other hand, completing the swing while his right hand flung out toward the two battling Pokémon. _Stop._

 _"Huh? Where is that voice coming from?"_ The Steelix slowed down in its onslaught for just a moment, but it was enough. His Iron Tail slammed into the ground, inches away from where the Clefable had stood previously.

 _"Metronome."_

But Anton didn't have much time to celebrate his short victory- the change in pace had given Miles the perfect opportunity to step up his offensive attack. "And a misstep marks the spot!"

 _"Earthquake!"_

The staff was slammed down brutally, and no doubt, it would have taken off more than a few silvery-white hairs if he hadn't dodged. Or rather, attempted to dodge.

Seismic waves tore through the field, sending both Miles and Anton flying. Both landed on their feet some twenty metres apart, weapons still somehow in hand.

"But what's this? An unexpected twist of circumstances separates the two combatants again! One of their Pokémon must have done it!" Staff held loosely in hand, Miles ran forward-

 _"Two can play at that game!"_ Stahl roared, smashing his blunt tail into the ground - too causing an Earthquake. Cracks appeared at an alarming rate, shaking the entire field. But the Clefable was unaffected, having remained levitating in mid-air. _"Metronome."_ Rosalina announced, much to the Steelix's great irritation. _"Do you not have any other moves or what?!"_

At the same time, with a quick twist of his staff, Miles had vaulted over a larger crack. A grim smile on his face, the black-haired announcer launched into a series of sweeps, dodging the katana slashes, disarming and knocking the albino's feet out from under him. "And a smashing right sweep takes Anton down a peg!"

The katana flew through the air, landing a few feet to the side, propelled even further by the bolt of electricity that struck the blade.

 _"Thunder!"_ A glowing yellow ball that crackled with electricity materialised before the Clefairy, before bolts of lightning raced down the field at her opponent. With an eerie grin, Stahl contorted his serpentine form, allowing the bolts of electricity shoot past him as he lunged forward, jaw open.

The next discharge of electricity hit his open mouth, but it was alright; he wasn't built like a tank for nothing. Heck, he was literally immune to electric attacks. The bolt was absorbed into the electricity already crackling in his open jaw from the Thunder Fang, as the Steelix closed his jaws around the Clefairy's right wing, before being pushed back by a bright pink blast.

 _"Moonblast!"_

Stahl landed heavily on the ground, but rose almost immediately, with nothing save for a few more scrapes and cracks to show. With a deafening roar, he charged up a Gyro Ball, letting it fly in the direction of the-

Rosalina watched on unblinkingly, head tilted to the side, as a painful shudder ripped through the Steelix, causing his aim to go off balance. She dodged the mis-aimed Gyro Ball with ease, ignoring the stabbing pain from her wing. Never once did her gaze flicker to the trainer she was currently partnered to, as she raised a short arm to cast yet another Metronome, entirely ignoring the thoughts being sent to her - rather intrusively, she might add.

Miles frowned. The next swing had been calculated to at least send Anton back by more than a few feet, far away from his blade, but the shaking of the ground caused by the simultaneous battle between Rosa and Stahl had thrown him off balance. Not only had it given Anton the chance to interfere with Stahl, but he had also recovered his blade. "What an exciting battle, folks! I haven't seen one this exciting since Champion Red got his Charizard's ass whooped by that Digi-something!"

"Oi, you Neapolitan nutcase, spoilers!"

Closer observation showed the albino's attempt to multitask - interfering with the Steelix and defending himself against his own continued onslaught. His grip on his staff tightened even as he swung mercilessly, giving Anton no chance to even catch his breath. He'd better not interfere with Rosa…

 _"Fire Blast!"_

Fire razed the field, forcing them both to dodge, or be hemmed in by the flames. "This battle is certainly heating up!" Anton was tiring, that he could tell; compartmentalizing his own fatigue, the announcer forced him back bit by bit, gaining a little more ground with each consecutive strike.

Now backed into a corner, with the Steelix behind him and Miles before - talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place - Anton knew he had no options left. He doubled his efforts to reach Rosalina, but to no avail-

 _Swish!_

He hadn't managed to block the swing in time, instead falling to the ground in his last-ditch attempt to dodge the blow. Behind him on the battlefield, he could hear the sounds of battle; a grimace making itself known, Anton brought up his blade yet again. _En garde._

He had no idea why the Clefairy was refusing to listen, but he couldn't risk devoting any more concentration to that cause. It was simply too risky.

"Arceus-dammit, Anton!" was the shout that rang through the charred battleground. "Listen-"

The cling of metal hitting metal resounded as the albino slashed relentlessly, forcing Miles to defend himself once more.

The Persian shook his head. "No, you listen. Stop trying to defend someone who won't even protect you - just give her an order already!"

Heterochromatic eyes darkened, as Anton jumped to avoid a swing, bringing forward his katana in a hacking motion that was readily parried. Across the field, the Steelix shuddered, with yet another Gyro Ball being sabotaged, crashing instead into the ground.

"What do you mean, you're trying? Try harder, if she won't listen to you the first time, just increase the pressure!"

"You're making him play a very dangerous game, Felix!" Miles yelled out, and for once, Max thought he actually sounded genuine. "Don't you dare-!"

"You stay out of this, doo-doo head!" The feline shouted back. "You're not the one dealing with an uncooperative piece of _shit_ -"

Max swore that the temperature of the courtyard just dropped a few degrees. A few of the other candidates shook their heads, a general dark atmosphere sinking in. Somehow, Max was now sure that match would end in bloodshed; if it had no chance before, the certainty was now a hundred percent.

"Uncooperative, eh?"

If there was one word that could possibly describe the expression on Miles' face, it had to be livid. "I'll show your partner what it means to be uncooperative. Stahl!"

 _"What up, my homie?"_ The gigantic snake roared. It was the first order that the man had given him all battle.

It would also be the last.

"Dragon Breath." was the order, and immediately, Stahl flinched. _"But dude, that's a Dragon-type attack! You're gonna make me use it against her?"_

"Dragon Breath."

And immediately, Rosa understood.

 _"Metronome."_

As Stahl reluctantly shot the blast of blue energy at his target, she tapped into the same latent energy that manipulated the whims of luck governing her fate. Choosing the move she needed for the situation, she waited until it had reached her, before-

 _"Ally Switch."_

And a very shocked Anton found himself in her place, engulfed by the attack.

"-!"

Miles watched on in cold satisfaction as Anton fell to the ground, paralyzed. He barely registered the silence from his allocated partner, or the stunned gazes from the live audience - it was time for the grand finale of this battle. "Ladies and gentlemen, as much as it saddens me to do this, you all wanted a spectacle, and by Arceus, it's my turn to give one to you."

A quick flick of the wrist, and his staff slammed into into ground, inches from Anton's head. "I hope everyone will enjoy this finale, even though it marks only the beginning of the battles to come!"

He allowed a smirk to curve his lips as he let the first blow fall; impacting the downed albino's left shoulder blade, Miles was rewarded with the satisfying crack of bone and a choked cry. "Looks like I missed, surprisingly! Let's give it another go, shall we?"

Making a show of adjusting his grip on the staff, he brought it down in yet another heavy swing-

"Just stop it already!" was the anguished yell from the Persian. "You've already won, what the hell do you want more?!"

"Oh, I just want to see how many whacks it will take to break a human open." Miles grinned ferally. "Take it as a lesson, I suppose - I personally never like it when my partner's disgraced. Something you might now understand once I'm done with Anton here."

"...ugh." Felix snarled, claws out. He would have torn that infuriating announcer to shreds-

"Felix was...out of line..."

Raising an eyebrow, Miles turned to look at Anton, the latter still sprawled on the ground. "Did you finally say something?"

Taking in a shaky breath, his voice halting and unsteady - almost as if it had never been used before - Anton repeated himself. "Felix was...out of line...and for his sake...I am sorry."

Time seemed to slow as Miles' face changed from and to a variety of expressions.

"...Hmph."

Finally settling on a grim smile of acceptance, he backed up, before rushing forward and delivering a strong kick to Anton's groin.

Almost every other male in the general vicinity instinctively crossed their legs - even Volok.

"Consider this the only form of mercy you're going to get." Miles declared, before pushing the already-unconscious Anton over. "The winner of this battle is Miles Fletcher!"

A pale tan streak dashed onto the field, screeching to a halt by the unconscious form of Anton Evans. Despite glaring at Miles, Felix said no more, following the group of enforcers who arrived to remove the body.

"To the medical wing, if you please," stated the butler. "He's still alive, after all."

"Don't sound so disappointed." was the scathing comment from Miles. "He's no good to me dead, after all."

 _… and to think I actually felt sorry for Miles earlier._ Feeling a chill go down his spine, Max made a mental note never to fight the announcer if he had the option to do so. It would save him from a whole world of hurt.

That, he was unquestionably sure.

Now that the vendetta was settled, Miles turned back to the Pokémon still on the field. Stahl immediately flinched, and so did Chikae, but they hadn't needed to worry.

"Thank you for following my order, Stahl. You're a good guy - protect her well." He mumbled gratefully, before holding up the Heavy Ball. "Return."

Once the ball was safely (and very gently, he might add) returned to its original owner, Miles turned to his partner. "Are you alright, Rosa?" he asked her, leaning down on one knee to check her injured wing.

 _"I am fine, Miles - nothing major."_ She winced. _"However, are you fine yourself?"_

He didn't need to understand her to reply - the hug saw to that.

 _"That is...a good enough answer."_

* * *

"Hey… you might want to take your face out of your papers to look at what's on TV." A raven-black ponytail temporarily obscured his vision, as a hand reached out and slammed his laptop shut.

Looking up, he met an all too familiar gaze; one that he could never figure if it was more blue, or more green. Daniel's gaze was a stormy turquoise today, hidden behind the spectacle lenses, he decided - like the ocean that the other man so loved, but flecked with shards of ice.

"Like I said: watch the television. Do I look like the television to you?"

He turned his head away, not needing his sight to tell him that the Dragon trainer had shook his head with a sigh. "It's just the Kanto tournament being aired."

"That's precisely why I'm here. If you think I'd leave my post for some half-baked reason, you really need to think again, you know?"

He raised an eyebrow, before reaching out to grab the remote lying on the far end of his desk. Pointing it at the monitor on the far end of the room, he pressed the power button, and the TV turned on in a flash of color.

Disinterested, he skipped the live feed, skimming instead through the various candidate interviews, until a very familiar face caught his eye. A quick press of another button, and the image on the screen froze. "Wait, is that..?"

Silently, Daniel nodded at his side, but he shook his head, not trusting his eyes. "No, that can't be him at the League. It can't be." There's no way...

A slight cough was heard, even as a Haxorus lumbered into the room, took one look at them, and promptly left.

"...I'm not seeing things, huh."

"Yeah." Daniel nodded, taking a seat on the desk only after carefully extricating a purple envelope from the large pile of papers that was promptly shifted to the side. "New orders, General?"

He grimaced. Well, it was more of a slight downward curve to the lips, but he knew Daniel could read it. The Dragon trainer was probably his only regular correspondent, after all. "But, Daniel… the rebels are going t- oh Arceus, I can't believe this is happening."

He received a comforting pat on the back. "I know. After all… my brother's in there too."

"You as well?" It struck him then, how little he knew about the other - about any of the others. Sure, he knew all their files by heart, but it wasn't the same.

A small smile and a nod, before Daniel turned to leave. "I'll be the lab if you need me."

Just as the black-haired man left the room, he found himself calling the other back. "By hook or by crook, get that envelope to our gamemaker," he nodded to the purple envelope in Daniel's hands. "The rest of the team stays put - we hold off the retrieval."

An acknowledging nod, accompanied by a small smile. "Roger that."

* * *

 **Characters:**

Max Rogers and Butterfree (Butterfree) - _blazelight790_

Thomas Pique and Lucien (Charizard) - _WolFang1011_ a.k.a _Amadeus_

Anton Evans and Felix (Persian) - _W. R. Winters_

Samuel Troy and Ampere (Ampharos) - _Imagination Heaven_

Volok Karnith and ? (?) - _Kuro Shikaku_

Enoch Maxwell and ? (Audino) - _emosewa-13_

Miles Fletcher and Rosalina (Clefable) - _SDproductions_

Saber Cyrille and Spark (Rotom) - _SDproductions_

Wyn Deego and ? (Skarmory) - _the Velveth_

Cid Hibiki and Maximus (Electivire) - _Penumbro_

 **The Dragonic Kaiser** : Daniel ?

 **The General** : ?

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _We didn't get a death this time, but ah well. I guess that's too bad._

 _Right, I also got myself a thread on_ ** _The Starfield_** _, a forum by_ ** _DJTiki_** _. The Showcases are modded by none other than_ ** _SDproductions_** _, so if you're authoring and your story meets the requirements, go ahead and contact him if you have any questions on how to set up a Showcase! (Though I'm unsure if the forum is still undergoing renovation, lol.) The Crossroads Showcase is at /topic/182403/148159392/1/Crossroads-A-Showcase. There will be extras posted there, any maybe art if I ever get around to it, haha. The extras would change the tone of the story if I have them in the interludes, so they'll be there. (If I ever finish writing them, that is.)_

 _You can expect one more candidate interview up there sometime, though. O u O Any guesses as to who it is?_

 _On a random note; I've been playing around with the Hunger Games simulator with the candidates of the tournament, plus two of the Elites to make a full cast of twenty four. Yes, I am aware that I don't have a life, haha. :3c_

 _Interestingly, canon fodder won the first two rounds. O u O The next round was won by a member of the Elite Four, with the next two rounds being won by actual candidates…_

 _Tells you so much about our cast, doesn't it?_

 _Also, because I am trash, SD and I have come up with names for some quite possibly crack ships. If you think you can guess them, then by all means, go ahead! O W O (Also fair warning: I might not be able to remember all of them. Only the more major ones.)_

 _Royalty shipping_

 _Coldfire shipping_

 _"What-the-heck" shipping_

 _Burned shipping_

 _"Sorry-but-I-just-don't-swing-that-way" shipping_

 _Synnecrosis shipping_

 _Cliché shoujo shipping_

 _Royal Blue shipping_

 _In conclusion: I really don't have a life. Wwww_

 _(Neither do I, but hey, I can write stuff simultaneously. Go me. Wwwww - SD)_

 _Also, the tarots have nothing to do with anything. They're just there because I was bored. I know, that's real smart, haha. But, you gotta admit that Max is kind of a hermit… no? Aww._

 _In addition- Persian is now a Prussian Person. The typo is real._

 _Until next time, ciao! (O u O)/_

Next time on Crossroads: **Clash**


	7. Interlude

_A/N:_

 _Hi. I did a thing._

* * *

 **Interlude:**

 **Sometimes, We Have Normal Days Too**

* * *

My name is Enoch Maxwell.

I'm one of the Elites of the Kanto region, the heir to the Maxwell family, and the unofficial Right Hand of the Kanto Champion.

Suffice to say, my workload is probably one of the heaviest around here - perhaps even in the entire region, given that I do handle the Champion's duties from time to time.

Breakfast in the morning is usually a subdued affair, for which I am thankful. It's easier to focus in silence, and a lot easier to concentrate on my own thoughts and pretend that the butler that follows me around doesn't exist.

It still doesn't stop him from making a quiet _'ahem'_ every time I pull out the wrong handkerchief, though. Or replace the butter knife when I inevitably drop it.

No one in the Dining Hall is foolish enough to laugh, however. Samuel merely gives me a small, knowing smile, but doesn't stop eating his breakfast. Wyn and Volok are, as usual, either too sleepy or too out of it to comment on my obvious slip up and exhaustion, and of course, the butler doesn't say anything.

He's not supposed to, and I don't need him to.

Five minutes to nine o'clock, and nearly a full hour after the four of us have gathered, is when Richard finally enters the room, stumbling a little and narrowly avoiding a collision with several inanimate objects including the doorframe.

It's also when I excuse myself and leave the room in absolute silence, ready to start the day's work, leaving my fellow co workers to deal with a sleepy Dragonar. Volok gives me an expression that clearly says _'not again'_ , and I simply shrug before leaving the room. Paperwork called, and I have no intention of allowing the work to pile up any more than it already had from last night.

. . .

It's lunch by the time I next leave my room, and this time, a few new additions are clearly present at the dining hall.

Brittany Troy sits next to her father, seemingly unconcerned despite being scolded - despite it seeming more like nagging, Samuel would never let anyone live if they mentioned that word before him. And while he can't exactly do much to me, I don't fancy having to send another suit for repair. She makes a move to stand, which is by all rights customary going by rank, but a quick shake of my head conveys my intention.

Her maid, Maria, stands in silence behind her, just like how the butler stands behind me. I inwardly sigh, hoping that I haven't gotten any ink on my hands, which would no doubt give the butler a chance to hand me yet another handkerchief - or, Arceus forbid, a towel. She doesn't bow, and I don't acknowledge her; no doubt she had read my earlier intention. That's good, I don't need to repeat myself.

Lastly, Miles Fletcher sits next to Wyn, who is pointedly ignoring his every attempt at trying to start a conversation like the ice her heart must be undoubtedly made out of. That is, assuming that she had one in the first place. His gaze flickers over to me for a second, and for that brief moment, I meet it squarely with my own. Miles turns away shortly after, and I finally take my seat.

Lunch basically turns out as a replica of breakfast - it always is, even with the added people. They turn up often, especially the announcer, but somehow don't ever contribute that much to the noise level. It's a rather odd fact that I find interesting, but won't ever research into, if only because it's also a waste of time.

Once again, I excuse myself after I'm done, the butler a few paces behind me. This time, however, I'm not headed back to paperwork, and instead go to oversee the preparations for the upcoming tournament. It's just that - preparations - and nothing is concrete, and while it's not like I can get started while Samuel, Volok, Wyn and Richard are in the dining hall, the meeting room is at least dark and quiet.

Pretty good for sleeping, actually.

. . .

It's hours later that I wake, much to the sound of obnoxious laughter. Almost instantly, I grimace, having recognised the presences of the five people in the room - and how could I not? After all, I work with four of them on a daily basis, and the last one is the greatest pain in existence currently known to mankind.

"And it looks like Richard and Samuel win the bet! Pay up, guys!" Miles crows, and I instantly glare at the other four occupants of the room. _You bet on me, of all people?_

Samuel grins. "Don't be so touchy, Enoch. You have such predictable sleeping habits that it's the easiest way to win a bet."

Richard only shrugs, but the smirk playing on his face tells me that he has no intention of stopping his actions any time soon.

Meanwhile, Volok and Wyn are complaining - well, Wyn was complaining - about losing the bet, but honestly, if she hasn't learnt by now never to bet against the house, she'll never learn. Sometimes it feels like they're just moving through the same motions on purpose, to paint each day in the same colour that it was yesterday, just as if making up for when the bloodshed starts.

As is customary, we don't have dinner. Instead, we spend the night drinking, before making Volok's little bar a place unfit for habitation by playing drinking games that somehow always include lethal weapons, before crashing to the floor when it's close to one in the morning.

The hangover next morning is entirely worth it, even if it means having to deal with another desk of papers - mostly bills, really.

Because it's a reminder that even we can have a normal day.

And I'm looking forward to the next one, whenever it may come.

* * *

 **Characters:**

Enoch Maxwell and ? (Audino) - _emosewa-13_

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _And you get a little thing from the POV of the great Enoch Maxwell himself. Ahahaha…_

 _Wait, where's Chapter 6, you may ask? Well, about that…_

 _Stuff happened. Yeah. (y)_

 _Until next time, ciao! (O u O)/_


	8. Chapter 6

A/N:

 _This chapter took so long to write, I'm not even kidding. And the playlist ranged from classical-style Bolero by DBSK to Leia by Megurine Luka and I'm just like "my hands are falling off-"_

 _On the plus side, there's more action in this one (probably) and I know at least some of you guys are anticipating a certain Kalosian cinnamon roll's battle (coughs **Amadeus** and **Mike** ) so yeah. Here. Have fun._

 _Onward to the review replies!_

 _ **WolFang1011 (Amadeus)** : Miles is great. He is one of my favourite characters, but then again, I'm biased because I just downright like the League - even though they're the bad guys, lol. Plus, he's an obnoxious piece of shit who actually really cares a lot for Rosa, so points for that! (Yes, Red totally had that one coming.) Mr. Pique needs a filter, and fast. O W O And yes, Cid is great._

 _ **Kuro Shikaku** : "Less than pleasant"? Wait till you see what's in this chapter… O u O_

 _ **MetaRaven135** : If anything of that sort happens, I blame SD. He wrote that reference in. Totally innocent here, yes. (Hmph. - SD)_

 _ **Blazelight790** : Now that you mention it… oh yeah. I didn't even realise there were three Maxes lol. (There's secretly a Maxie somewhere, shhhhh.) Mr. Pique will be available for interaction once he gets a filter, so until then, I apologise for the wait. Pfffft, you say it like you don't know just what exactly happened… No comments on those two from me, ohohoho. Have fun being trash, plus, my inbox is always open to trash ship discussions. (And the Starfield too, once it's open officially ahahaha.)_

 _ **MikeV1** : I hope it was a good twist, heh. Balance is really amazing, but no rush for the next chapter - good things do take time, after all! I do have you to thank for getting me started with the battle scene plus, Reuben is just amazing. Rye too, of course, but he's not in this chapter._

 _ **Trainer Naps** : Not too sure about that, but this Butterfree is exactly how she was submitted, so that's that! Also, Casey Flickerman? Miles? Wow. Okay. O A O Also, casualties… hahaha. I think if Verona and Miles met any more often, the tournament would have to be cancelled because of too much collateral damage, you follow? :3c 5/7? It probably is. Plus, tension of all kinds is great- I mean what. :P_

 _ **OPFan37** : You don't like the cast? Not surprising, in all honesty - I've not actually shown much of each person, so it's perfectly understandable. I do hope you'll get more attached to them as the story progresses, thoug The battle was Miles to the core, and that reference… I blame SD! Yes, I'm pushing the blame to my non-profit beta, ahahaha. (Also I forgot to check I'll try to remember in the future sorry about that ahhhhhh-) Also Miles doesn't need pity. He has his giant collapsible staff, that's good enough for him. O u O_

 _ **WereDragon EX** : As was mentioned earlier, he had a falling out with Nicole, and David's...gone, lol. The reason why though, won't be explained so soon… probably. Transformer references, SD's doing. In fact, in the last chapter, all the references were from him, and probably most chapters too pffft. Regarding conspiracies, well… hmmmmmm. They're everywhere, yet they're not. That's the best I can describe it right now, because the way the roads are mapped out in my drive folders are really really messy, lol._

 _ **PBComplexion** : No worries; everyone gets busy some time or another. I do agree Miles is an ass, but Rosa refusing to cooperate? Well, it could be interpreted that way, but Anton was being intrusive, and a lady likes her privacy quite a lot, lol. O w O Thomas has a rather coarse vocabulary, yes, lol._

 _Now, moving on..._

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

 **Clash**

* * *

The first match had ended.

Max watched on in silence as the charred, cracked ground was repaired as much as it could be in the given break time of a mere five minutes. Sure, a few Psychic-type Pokémon were employed to do the job, but where did they come from…?

 _If the answer is 'from the Pokéballs', I'm going to facepalm._

Meanwhile, Miles was on the other side of the courtyard, busy revising the footage from his battle with Anton. "You could have gone with a better angle on this one, y'know!" Loud complaints were heard occasionally, but just like Miles himself, they were tuned out by everyone else present.

Restlessness prevailed; turning his glance to the Elites, the black-haired teen noted that Samuel seemed to be arguing with the butler, who looked absolutely unfazed. _Then again,_ Max supposed, _when you work for a scary person like Enoch Maxwell, an angry Samuel probably isn't much._

He scrapped that thought immediately after remembering just _who_ the blond Elite was. After all, there was no way someone whose title was **One-handed Tyr** 'wasn't much', even if he was compared to the infamous Enoch Maxwell.

Volok and Enoch stood on either side of the arguing duo, flanking them - quite oddly indeed, given that the former seemed to be interested in the contents of a pale orange envelope, and the latter being his usual stiff, disinterested self. It was the envelope itself drew Max's attention more so than the Elites themselves, however.

It wasn't big enough to fit much, perhaps just a small note. The broken seal on the back was a dark shade of red, which raised some curiosity. Because in this day and age, who even used wax to seal letters any longer?

"Are you actually staring at who I think you are staring at… ?"

A young man with neck-length blue locks and irises of the exact same shade was standing a little ways off, an unreadable expression written on his face. His fringe was swept to the right, but it didn't hide the existence of the black eyepatch over that eye.

"Um-" was the intelligent reply from Max, who only gripped the Dusk Ball in hand a little tighter.

A blink, followed by a small smile. "I don't see why you would be staring at our hosts, but I shan't question it."

 _You already did, wise guy. Thanks._

Thankfully, Max was spared the painful task of coming up with a reply. "We've reached a decision." was the sudden announcement from Samuel that saved the day. "The next battle will be between contenders twenty one and seven. Please step onto the field."

"That is-" The butler began, only to be cut off by an excited whoop.

Fist punching the air, Carl had whooped in glee, running to the center of the field with a Pokéball in hand. "Finally, it's here - a chance to battle! Alright, who's my punching bag?"

"Non, no punching bag - but allô, for your opponent would be me. Reuben Fournier." A rather tall teenager stepped forward. Max vaguely recognised him, having met him at dinner, but no where else.

Ultra Ball in hand, the blond teen smiled, a spark coming to life in previously dull green eyes. "Let us commençons la bataille, oui? I think you'll find that I'm no pushover."

Volok cleared his throat. "You know the drill, so let's get this over and done with."

"Oui," was the nod of acknowledgement from Reuben. "Will you fight with me?" He asked, holding up the Ultra Ball at eye level, almost if he could see the Pokémon contained inside.

The Ball shook a little, before it opened with a blinding flash of white.

An unearthly chill crept over the arena, even as the Froslass hovered about an inch above the ground. _"Let us make this battle count, Fournier. Launa - I will not fail you."_ She nodded to the girl, before turning to face the navy-haired man standing opposite them.

Carl whistled upon seeing the Snow Land Pokémon. "Damn. If only I had Yeager with me. Still, it's all good-!" This last was said with a flourish, as he tossed the Pokéball in a dramatic swing.

The humanoid Pokémon landed on the ground on a single foot. It said nothing, but the distinctive red headpiece and puffy red pants gave it away as a Medicham. _I would presume that I continue to fight?_

Carl blinked, unsure of how to reply-

 _Indeed._ Was the curt answer, traced back to an olive-skinned teen with long jet-black locks.

Turning to fix Carl with a critical eye, the Medicham turned away almost immediately. _The name's Conrad. Don't get in my way._

"Are the contenders ready?" The butler asked, to which the reply was four silent nods. "Excellent. Then-"

"Oh, screw this." Miles hollered from the other side of the arena, slamming the laptop shut. "I'll just dub everything else later. I'm off the mic, you guys continue with recording, got it?!"

Ignoring that, the butler resumed, "Let the battle commence!"

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **Reuben Fournier VS The Burning Lance, Carl Ericsson**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

Grabbing his spear, Carl dashed forward, bringing it forward in a single quick lunge-

Only to miss, as both Reuben and Froslass sidestepped the blow.

A swift figure dashed by him, the sheer movement of air created ruffled the man's navy locks violently, even as the Snow Land Pokémon floated forward with the barest of movements. This movement in itself stated clearly her intent to battle - and if it didn't, the forbidding Ominous Wind that blew through the field was indication enough.

 _Time to get this show started._ Ignoring the damage, he tensed, before bounding towards the yuki-onna with one jump from his immensely-powerful legs.

His right palm glowing with power, Conrad slammed it forward, following it immediately after with a High Jump Kick that would have surely taken the head of anyone else off.

But no, Froslass was of a partial Ghost-typing, making her immune to Fighting-type moves. The recoil didn't bother him that much, though - not only was he used to this, but he usually took more damage than this on a daily basis. Such trivial pain was easily compartmentalized and suppressed, allowing him to continue battle.

The less said about how he managed to prevent himself from crashing, the better.

Another High Jump Kick was launched, mere moments after he landed - she didn't bother making any attempt to dodge, as usual. Yet again, he (magically) avoided yet another crash, once again ignoring the damage taken from the attack. Let her think that his moveset was limited, why not?

The little smirk that played on her face too, was well within his expectations as the Medicham let his left fist fly immediately after finishing the kick, his right following immediately after in a sequence of high-speed punches, the only attack he knew would be super effective against her.

To say that Froslass was shocked would have been a great understatement. How bad was her luck, really, that this one Medicham just happened to have Bullet Punch? The first blow caught her straight in the gut-

"Throw Powder Snow in his face!" was the order from the foreigner who was her assigned partner. It didn't require even a split second for the Snow Land Pokémon to obey the order, summoning a snowy gust to obscure Conrad's vision as she attempted to dodge the rest of the blows.

It worked, but barely - and unlike the Medicham, the Froslass was not quite as adept at not taking damage. Hands putting pressure on her injured torso, she floated backward awkwardly in tactical retreat, closing the distance between herself and Reuben - who, she noted, still hadn't drawn a weapon. _Interesting, but now's not the time for an analysis,_ she reminded herself.

The miniature snowstorm cleared, only for her gaze to land on the plume of sparks and fire that had just erupted out of nowhere.

 _…but that's-!_

Swinging his spear, Carl had felt the metal shudder as he ran its tip across the ground as he ran forward. The friction that was produced caused sparks to fly from the concealed flint, igniting the well-oiled head of his weapon. Flames burst to life, the orange flickering from the piercing cold of the summoned snow; darting forward, the navy-haired man made to reach the blond Kalosian trainer.

 _Take out the trainer, and the match is over. That's all there is to it._

Froslass was weak to fire, he knew. Even if he didn't have Yeager by his side, Carl trusted in his own abilities, trusted in the Snow Land Pokémon's unhealthy fear of fire. He had observed her staying far away from the Fire-types at dinner, and indeed - she had not been around when he went to meet Yeager at the fountain. It was just pure coincidence that Thomas had been waiting for his Charizard as well, giving him the opportunity to talk to the man privately - after dragging him away, of course.

Really, by estimation, it wouldn't take him more than twelve running steps to reach the boy. He could do this - Reuben hadn't even brought out a weapon. Blazing emerald eyes narrowed; if he was being underestimated, he'd correct that soon enough.

A pale blue beam shot straight at him; swerving to the left, he dodged the Ice Beam, which hit his spear instead, immediately dousing the flames and forming a layer of crystalline ice over the once-flaming head. _No matter_ , Carl thought; accompanied by a grim smile, he raised the spear, changing tactics on the fly - if he couldn't run the other through, he would just have to bludgeon him.

 _No hard feelings, but I can't afford to lose._

Carl swung his spear-turned-hammer with all the force he could muster, the chunk of ice covering his spear's tip making an adequate weight for bludgeoning. Froslass wasn't moving, but that was alright - he'd just knock her aside, before taking out Reuben-

 _Boom!_

Impossibly, the ice _exploded_ before it made contact with either one of his opponents. Then the shockwave hit him, running down the metal of his spear, stunning the navy-haired man and forcing him to hit the ground.

 _"I told you not to get in my way,"_ was the irritated snarl from Conrad, electricity still cracking from his right fist, surprisingly - or unsurprisingly, the damage the Medicham sustained from his earlier feints seemed to be mostly healed. _He used Recover,_ Carl realised, _and I was just a distraction._

Surprisingly, the navy-haired man couldn't bring himself to feel even disappointment at the realisation. He had known from the moment the change of partners was announced that this was bound to happen, that some pairs would be unable to work together. It took a lot to trust someone you've never worked with before - someone you've never even met before - even in a regular situation, so why would it be any different in this situation, where a single loss could lead to death?

He just didn't expect himself to land this particular lot, that's all.

"Now that's gotta hurt…" Reuben winced upon seeing the Meditate Pokémon attack its own partner with a forceful Thunder Punch. "However, let us make use of this chance, oui? While they're distracted, change the field with Blizzard."

 _"Very well."_ was the quiet agreement, as Froslass raised both hands. A snowstorm settled into the field, forcing both Conrad and Carl backward. The snowy breeze blew harder as formations began to appear, forming a field covered in ice and crystal columns that jutted out from the ground, as well as lowering temperatures to below freezing levels. _"I do appreciate your style, Fournier."_

"Merci, merci." was the gentle laugh from the blond boy. While he couldn't understand the Snow Land Pokémon, the little quirky smile she had given him spoke volumes. Froslass was strong in her own right, but she was no Rye, that was for sure. The boy shivered a little from the cold, determined not to lose here - not ever. Maybe I should have thought about it a little more, oui; while it's a bit too cold now, at least, this battle will be over soon.

His previously bright green gaze dulled a little further at the realisation. _Looks like this might end up being a predictable match like every other…_

Frost had gathered on his limbs; shivering a little, Conrad could feel the stinging burn of the cold, before it was quickly replaced by blank numbness. _Not good,_ the Medicham mused, breaking into a run forward - but he couldn't get a good purchase on the now-iced floor, forcing him to run slower than he'd have liked to, or risk falling and leaving himself open. The cold conditions were already bad enough; he really didn't need any more trouble on his hands.

 _Though speaking of trouble…_ Where was that irritating lancer who called himself Carl?

The sound of an explosion reached his ears; sensing danger, Conrad jumped back - and not a moment too soon, for a huge chunk of ice came crashing down where he had previously stood, causing cracks to spread on the ice-covered floor, shattering part of the field yet again as a column of ice exploded.

But it wasn't the only one.

"Shadow Ball, again! Destroy this field!"

Suddenly, the air was full of dark orbs and ice chunks, some bigger than the others. Conrad was hard pressed to dodge them all, deciding instead to dodge just the bigger chunks of ice and the Shadow Balls. Yet the smallest pieces of ice stung him repeatedly like many tiny pellets of hail, and it _hurt_.

The effect of the cold finally settling in tore at the Meditate Pokémon, not only forcing him to move slower but also stacking damage on him, bit by bit, as the minutes ticked on. _I have to finish this, and fast._

A blue glow enveloped him as he took off, running toward the source of the attacks as fast as he could. She knew he was coming, however, and sent a Shadow Ball on a direct collision course for him.

 _You're not getting me so easily._ Conrad tackled the next Shadow Ball with a charged Zen Headbutt, sending it flying right back at the Froslass - the layers of psychic energy shielding him somewhat from the damage of direct impact. He heard, rather than saw, the stray Shadow Ball make contact with its summoner, and the muffled wince from the Kalosian.

Dark eyes flashed as the Medicham closed in, sending out yet another flurry of Bullet Punches. _"You're going to go **down**."_

 _"You wish."_ Froslass snarled in return, firing a pale blue beam from the close distance - even if fragments of ice hit her, it was alright. She wasn't resistant to Ice-type attacks for nothing. At such range, it was impossible for her to miss-!

The first few punches made contact with the Froslass, but her subsequent Ice Beam froze the Medicham by encasing him in an ice block, giving the Snow Land Pokémon ample time to float backwards before firing a few more Shadow Balls at the new ice statue, which shattered with a giant crack, allowing a barely conscious Conrad to fall to the icy ground.

"Conrad-!" Carl had finally escaped from under the ice chunk that had pinned him down, only to witness his allocated partner fall. The navy-haired man snatched up his weapon and began running, trusting the Medicham to use Recover just like before. "Time to meet your maker, you bitch!" He yelled, thrusting the spear forward as hard as he could, despite the Froslass being right in his trajectory, directly in front of Reuben.

It was of minor consequence, collateral damage or no. She was part ghost, anyway - his attack would just go through her.

What he didn't take into account was the Froslass actually remaining tangible and stopping his attack. Her hands closed on either side of his spear, effectively halting its movements, sending Carl staggering forward slightly with the momentum but nowhere to send it. Ice crept slowly up the metal - she was just toying with him, wasn't she - sapping the heat from the man's shaking hands as he struggled to remain standing. "Why you little-!"

"Feel free to take him out, oui?" Reuben smiled, to which the Froslass nodded with grace and a small huff of disdain. _"But of course; that is the requirement if this match is to be won."_

"Conrad!" The navy-haired man yelled, tugging his spear away from the yuki-onna with all the force he could muster. Her grip had loosened, however, and he overestimated the amount of strength he needed to use, sending him teetering back a few steps. "Any time now would be nice-"

The hit that sent him flying back was anything but friendly. Carl vaguely recognised it as a Force Palm as he was sent skidding across the field, spear flying through the air and landing head-first into the ground. "You're utterly incompetent," the Medicham all but growled, throwing yet another series of Bullet Punches at the Froslass, who dodged yet again, this time using a combination attack of Ominous Wind to blow Powder Snow into Conrad's face, obscuring not just his vision but also creating a white-out both on and off the field. _"And you're just as bad,"_ she smiled, tilting her head to the side as the Meditate Pokémon tch'd, taking a few careful steps backward.

The snow, however repulsive, made for good cover - and not just for the Snow Land Pokémon. Carl got up as silently as he could; hand brushing against the cold metal of his spear, the navy-haired man picked up his trusty weapon, and felt its tip. _Good, there's still some oil left..._

 _Crunch._ His booted footfalls weren't exactly quiet, but they were easily muffled by the powdery snow and covered by the sounds of battle.

A glint of gold.

He struck, weaving to the side to mask the thrusting of his spear from the other direction, but the attack was avoided with ease. Still, the few sparks that flew from the contract with the frozen ground were enough to ignite the spearhead once more. "Che!" The navy-haired man's next slashes too were dodged, but in his defense, the snow was now being blown straight at him - no doubt the Froslass was to blame.

He couldn't hear the sounds of battling any longer - Conrad must have fallen. _It was about time, anyway._

This time, a flash of silver caught his eye - the Kalosian had pulled out a blade and lunged forward.

 _Oh, so **now** you pull out a weapon?_ "Dammit, I've had enough of this. I'll show you why they call me the Burning Lance!"

As if resonating with his will, the flames that had engulfed the spearhead burned ever brighter, as Carl darted close to the teen, letting his right arm swing the weapon forward.

He felt, rather than heard, the sensation of metal sinking into flesh, but he continued in his attack. Pulling out the spear almost immediately, he shifted his stance and grip, before thrusting the spear back into the exact same spot, the heat from the flames searing his hands.

From the spear's position at his right, he struck, before pulling the weapon back. In the middle of this motion, he once again switched, this time thrusting the spear with a backhand motion, having shifted himself from the spear's left to its right.

The smell of charred flesh vaguely registered before he felt an open palm slamming into him, pushing him back by what felt like several disorienting feet with a loud crack.

An acute pain burned in his chest; Carl knew without a doubt that his ribs were broken. But how? There was no way that teenager could have hurt him that much with a single blow - and with a bare hand to boot?!

It was then the pale mist that had clouded his vision faded. He really should have suspected it, but he didn't.

"...!"

He was at the far end of the battlefield, lying on the floor like a broken ragdoll - in the center of the field, hunched on the floor, was a bruised and bleeding Conrad. In fact, some of those wounds looked like…

Stab wounds…?

"Magnifique, Froslass." Carl heard Reuben state, the teenager's voice sounding faint from the other end of the courtyard. "Oui, I enjoyed the battle; merci."

He let a wry grin touch his lips, disappointment rising where the flames of competition once burned. Graciously, the navy-haired man allowed himself to be carried off the field and into the medical wing.

His run was over.

"And the winner is Reuben Fournier!"

Max was astounded - no, appalled. For a match to be this one-sided… was it even possible? But no, he had just witnessed it; a battle where trainer and Pokémon worked together seamlessly despite not being partners - where Reuben didn't even have to bring out a weapon to defend himself.

So, if he was paired with his own partner…

Would Reuben be unstoppable?

The spear fell to the ground as Carl was carried away, the flames slowly dying out. Max watched on as teen with jet-black locks that framed a tan face walked slowly onto the field, as the Medicham too was carted away - no doubt, he was Medicham's trainer. But if so… then why did he look so apathetic?

"And the match is concluded with a burst of friendly fire - quite literally, I might add!" Miles announced, rewinding the footage. "Sheesh, some people need to train their Mons better."

Once again, the courtyard was cleared up and repaired by a team of enforcers and Psychic-type Pokémon. This time, however, the argument between Volok and Samuel was clearly audible for all to hear.

"I don't see your problem." Volok rolled his eyes, now playing with a few ornate vials in hand. "The field is repaired after every battle, isn't it?"

"My dear Volok," Samuel sighed with clear exasperation, "Using Psychic to precariously stack the dislodged boulders and chunks back into the ground does not constitute as safe. We have a safety protocol in place, do we not?"

"Half of them are likely to die anyway, so the protocol doesn't really have a use, and I can't say that I see your point." Volok shrugged, motioning for the field to be cleared with a wave of his now-empty hand, the vials having being dropped into the depths of the teen's pockets. The clean-up crew left accordingly, allowing Miles' Magnemite to set up the cameras once more, with more yelled instructions from the man himself. "Further down the field, please!"

"What safety protocol is this?" Cid questioned, Ultra Ball held loosely in hand. "Also, why weren't we made aware of it?"

A quiet laugh was heard from a lady with the most scary smile and sickly-grey irises that Max had ever seen. "The only reason why you don't know about the protocol is because of your own incompetence, child of the Hibiki."

"Mind your words, **Poison Heart** ," Launa frowned. "Or I'll wash your mouth out with charcoal vanilla soap."

"You should really all stop giving fucks about this issue." Thomas deadpanned, only to be silenced by a loud _slap_ to the face, courtesy of an Audino, who demurely walked back to Enoch's side. "What the actual fu-"

"Language, Pique." Samuel reminded, much to general amusement. Max was vaguely reminded of a dysfunctional family, but the thought was quickly banished from his mind.

"If you would all stop behaving like rowdy children," interjected the butler, "the contestants in the next match have been decided."

"Really, what did you expect?" Blaise questioned, a smile playing on her lips. "We do have children among us, after all."

"Oui, that is true," Reuben pointed out, returning Froslass to Launa. "But as a teenager, I take offense to that."

"I'm a teenager too," the girl exclaimed, "And that was a rocky road-tabulous battle with Froslass, Reuben!" A thumbs-up was given and returned with a big grin.

"Instead of bickering amongst ourselves, how about we begin the next round?" was the quiet question from Atlas, which was heard over the sudden silence that fell over all those gathered. Acquiesce could be felt in the general atmosphere, even though animosity was definitely radiating from several people present.

Case in point, a certain Verona Moore. "How about you keep your mouth shut instead?"

"How about you fools quit being disagreeable?" questioned a girl with a thick maroon braid that fell in a long cascade, a pleasant smile that didn't quite reach her Alice-blue eyes on her lips. While her voice had a slightly childish ring to it, the age behind it was plain to hear. Max grimaced; clearly, she couldn't be addressed as anything but 'girl' given her extremely petite height, but really, this was extremely awkward.

A snarl ripped from someone's throat, before the swish of metal ended the brawl before it could begin. A few razor sharp feathers lay embedded in the ground between the warring contestants. The Skarmory soared overhead, wings outstretched as it rode the thermals, metallic body glinting under the rays of light that reflected off it.

Silence fell across the arena, and unbeknownst to both the Elites and the contenders, across the region of Kanto, thousands of citizens were watching reruns of the preliminary interviews, each one carrying a torch of hope for the candidate of their choice.

"Now that we've all settled down like civilised adul- I mean, _people_ , I shall announce the contestants of the next match." The butler nodded, proceeding onwards with his announcement. "The contestants will be numbers thirteen and sixteen."

"Very well." was the mutter from a man of average height and raven locks cropped short, as well as a pair of generic brown eyes. A small flick of his hand, and the Heal Ball burst open, revealing a male Roserade.

Bao, as his name was, saluted gracefully. _"Are you to be taking the place of my master? If so, then I shall look to you for guidance in our upcoming battle. The outcome will surely be fortuitous for us."_

A soft laugh was heard from the lady with the sickly-grey gaze, but it was the kind that ignited a burning chill in the heart. "I hope this match will turn out to be… Interesting." The Pokéball in her hand, coloured its usual shades of red and white, trembled violently, but did not release its inhabitant.

"Ah, right." Cora shrugged, before carelessly throwing the ball. As the blinding flash of light died down, a dragon-like Pokémon now stood on the field, impressive in its magnificent fiery colour of orange.

But this was no Dragon-type - instead, the winged form of one Charizard hovered slightly above the ground, before he let loose a mighty roar.

 _"...Um."_ Bao sweatdropped. _"On second thought, perhaps not."_

 _"Hah! This walking bouquet's **my** opponent?"_ Some flames erupted from Lucien's nose. _"What luck, I'll be done here in record time."_

 _"Hey, I'm no pushover...Though I'm clearly at a very big disadvantage."_ The Roserade admitted, before dropping into a battle stance. _"But I'll do my best."_

A smirk. _"Very well. I can respect that in a fighter. Doesn't mean I'm going to show you mercy or anything, though, you clear on that?"_

 _"Crystal."_

"Will all contestants get ready on the field?" came the dry question from - surprisingly - Volok, to which there was no reply. "I'll take that as a yes. As such, let the battle commence."

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **The Poison Heart, Cora Achlys VS The Obsidian Diaz, Thanatos Endon**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

Before anyone could react, the harsh _clang_ of metal colliding was heard - Endon and Cora had met in the centre of the field. His black spatha pushed against her gleaming silver cutlass, sending a few sparks flying as neither of them moved even an inch, blades screeching as each pushed forward with all their strength.

"Rather ironic, your last name is," remarked Cora conversationally. "After all, there's an 'End' in it."

"What are you trying to imply?" Endon frowned. Having spent most of his life on the streets, no one had really batted an eyelash at his name, full or otherwise.

"Nothing," was the answer accompanied by a small smile. "Only that, well, you'll be meeting your **end** in this fight."

"-!"

Using her right hand to maintain the pushing force behind her first cutlass, into Cora's empty left hand fell another, the blade gleaming wickedly under the rays of the morning sun.

What happened next was unclear, obscured by the blast of fire and wind that enveloped the field. But when the scorching amber flames died down, the outcome of the match was made perfectly clear.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new record! Miss Achlys has ascended the throne of the Red Queen in just over a minute!"" Miles announced.

Max could only stare on in horror as the headless body of one Thanatos Endon fell to the ground, hand going slack and allowing the obsidian blade to hit the field with a quiet cling. His head stared blankly from its perch on her crossed cutlasses, slowly sliding off with a sickening _squelch_ , before it finally hit the ground with a soft _thud_.

Bao, having seen the gory results, held his hands up in surrender. _"Uh... is now an okay time to call for mercy?"_

Lucien considered the plea, and nodded, a small spiral of smoke escaping his open jaws. He didn't see the need to be unnecessarily cruel. _"Very well. We shall conclude this match here."_

Blood dripped from Cora's identical blades, adding to the puddle of red on the floor. With a slow, deliberate flick, blood flecks flew from aforementioned cutlasses, landing on the corpse, adding insult to injury - or rather, to memory. The action was followed up by a quick sheathing of both blades, before she walked away, the only sign of satisfaction being the cold smile that graced her lips.

"I do believe we all know the Red Queen's one and most famous tagline, yes? That's right, the line is 'Off with their heads!' And it seems as though Miss Achlys has just accomplished precisely that." Miles crowed into the microphone with a large smile, as if he hadn't just watched someone get decapitated.

He couldn't take it any more. Running off to a more secluded corner, Max covered his mouth with a hand as he dry heaved. He'd seen people fighting in the battle tents, but the matches were never like _this_. The closest would be the occasional fool who ventured too far into the forest having to fight for their lives against Pokémon, but this was…

This was murder, plain and simple.

Dark red stained the field, and the metallic iron tang was heavy in the air. And the bloody, bloody corpse - dear Arceus, were open wounds supposed to turn grey and shrivel?

He didn't know how long it took for him to stop, but when he finally did, Max was left drained and shaking.

"Do you want to...well, talk?" is the quiet question from beside him; looking up, the black-haired teen spotted Cid standing there, a grim expression written on his pale features.

"I think I'd prefer to forget that… _that_ just happened…" Max allowed his voice to trail away, not able to banish the repeating images from his vision. They had been seared into his mind's eye, in vivid color and 4-dimensional action. The sound of the severed head hitting the floor, the iron stench of now-cloying blood…

"It won't be going away so soon." was the quiet statement.

"You sound very confident about that," Max mumbled saltily, but part of him couldn't help but to wonder just how the grey-haired man knew. By all rights, there wasn't a situation in which such a thing could happen. Even if the tournaments were aired on TV like what Miles said, the impact wasn't the same as witnessing it first hand… probably.

Unless, of course, Cid was a previous candidate, and had gotten dragged back into the tournament once more.

The black-haired teen felt himself tensing up at the thought. As if dragging innocent civilians into this death trap wasn't enough, now the League was throwing the same civilians back as well? If the rest of them all ever got out of this alive, he was so petitioning against this.

Actually, taking to the streets was probably a better idea.

Keyword being "better", because he'd probably lose his head the minute he did so.

"Naturally, yes." Cid murmured quietly, averting his eyes from the cleanup. "You seem to be taking this a lot better than I first did, though if you ever want to talk… Well, I'll be here."

"Not like we can really go anywhere else, no?" Max quipped, trying to sound normal - and succeeding somewhat. He couldn't stop his voice from shaking just a little, however.

"That much is true, yes." Launa had walked over, her expression twisted into a small grimace. "Still, that match was Neapolitan overboard - and very much so."

She placed a comforting hand on both their backs, however, and while the slight warmth did nothing much to help, the fact of knowing they weren't alone did ease the gaping cold somewhat.

"While I'm all for public displays of affection, can we proceed on now?" questioned Saber, the barest hint of a knowing smirk touching his lips. "Of course, there's nothing wrong with polyamory, nor do I have anything against it, but we should really continue the tournament, yes?"

Amidst the general laughter (and the avid commenting of a certain obnoxious announcer), Max hurriedly backed away. "I have no idea what you're going on about," he vehemently protested, "but keep it rated T, please!"

"What is this, is Maxie boy suffering from denial?" Miles all but yelled into the mic, accompanied by Blaise's adjoinder of "We're all _well_ aware of his preference, I believe-"

The black-haired teen thought his reaction was bad. Well, it wasn't.

"Saber Cyrille, I will beat the rocky road out of you for slander!"

Cid grabbed both of Launa's arms, effectively restraining her from attacking the albino male, despite his expression too saying something along the lines of 'You'd better pray Arceus helps you by the time I'm through with you'.

"Ooh, kinky." Saber winked at the duo, an impish grin station clearly his intentions. "It's not really my style, but I can appreciate it. Still, remember to get a room, yeah?"

"And we have another unexpected development follows, ladies and gentlemen!" Miles crowed, clearly comfortable with making people very uncomfortable. "I must admit, I never thought that Maxie boy of all people would get a harem so quickly after-"

"Silence." was the word of command, but really, it was practically unnecessary.

The temperature fell by what seemed like almost ten degrees, as a glare from Enoch silenced all who were present. The man himself left moments after, much to the chagrin - and relief - of his two fellow Elites. The butler left as well, but not before bowing slightly in a mark of apology for his "young master's tantrum", as he put it.

Samuel sighed. "Let us begin the next round. The next match will be between-"

"Eight and five." interjected Volok, majestically ignoring the long-suffering look on the blond-haired man's face. "Let's just get this over with, and no, that wasn't a question." Stepping forward, Cid threw the Ultra Ball in his hands, which burst open in a blinding flash of white. It was soon replaced by flames the colour of the burning sunset, however, along with the sharp _click-clack_ of hooves hitting the ground.

It was the Rapidash.

 _Glad to see that I'm not the one facing that thing,_ Max let go a sigh of relief.

A teenager stepped forward, Dusk Ball in hand. His black hair fell to shoulder length, with a fringe that covered part of his left eye. A single streak in his hair was violet, as were his eyes.

A brilliant flash of white flooded the field, even as a piece of rock fell onto the battlefield. Both halves of the Dusk Ball fell to the floor, shattering into several pieces, a small burst of silver glitter escaping in a tiny cloud.

 _"So, Death itself is dead, killed by the hands of one here…"_

Max shivered, but not from the cold. Quiet hissing filled the air even as the markings on the rock glowed eerily; swirling purple fog escaped, forming a circular mass dotted with acidic green orbs. A single spiral pupil blinked lazily, before the Forbidden Pokémon seemed to flicker. _"Technically, we now answer to no one, for even Death now lies among us."_

The pupil immediately switched clarity. _"And he's hella fun to tease! We're using his head as a soccer ball next Tuesday!"_

Once again, the look on the Spiritomb's face darkened. _"Hey, it's my turn at the control center today, you don't get to touch!"_

 _"Can I move on to the afterlife now please?"_ Thanatos' exasperated voice from his ex-Pokémon sounded out, though no one would know, for no one understood him any longer.

Silence fell across the field, no one quite comprehending what was currently happening. Needless to say, more than a few pitying looks were sent to the black-haired teen, who only seemed resigned.

"I understand that you no longer hold obligations to battle, seeing as your master is dead." Li Jun murmured, gaze fixed on the broken halves of the Dusk Ball in his hands. "However, just for this one match… Will you fight by me?"

 _"Hella yes, my man! It's so boring in-"_

The spiraling fog seemed to shudder, its violet shade becoming more saturated. _"What we mean to say is, we expect freedom after the match. Don't ever request anything else of us, whisperer, or else."_

"I give you my word." Was the reply after a pause, not long enough to make it seem like there was anything funny going on, yet not short enough for it not to be said that no deliberation was given to the matter.

 _"Then we have a deal."_ The Spiritomb now seemed… pleased? The once-ominous air seemed to blow away on a non-existent breeze, even as a second spiraling pupil blinked itself into existence. _"Let us triumph over the Steed of Conquest, or attempt to, at least."_

"If both contestants are ready?" Here, Samuel paused. Only when he had received a nod from both Cid and Li Jun did the blond Elite continue. "Then, let this battle begin."

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **Cid Hibiki VS Wing Li Jun**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

With a clear _shing_ , Cid pulled out a rod that had an iron ball at each end. The look on his face was nothing if not determined, with only the tight grasp he had on his weapon and his white knuckles betraying his nervousness.

 _If I had to guess, I'd estimate his weapon to be about six feet,_ Li Jun mused, allowing his weapon of choice to fall into his hands. Compared to his two collapsible daggers, Cid certainly had the advantage when it came to mid-range fighting. But if he could get in close...

Upon seeing the amber flames burn brighter, the Spiritomb grinned eerily. Gathering power into a single point before it, it suddenly sped forward, with an acceleration that most would be hard-pressed to reach. The Sucker Punch would close the distance between them, it knew, and might as well inflict some damage too while it had the chance, no?

To its immense surprise, it failed to make contact with the Fire Horse Pokémon, the gathered energy dispersing and its swirling violet clouds instead being violently parted by burning hot flames. Spiritomb reformed barely a moment later, still very much alive but also very much confused.

 _"What just-"_

It couldn't be. Sucker Punch never missed, unless… the Rapidash hadn't been using an attack? But that made no sense-

Helios sped past the attacking Forbidden Pokémon, his horn glowing yellow, palely at first before growing in strength. The yellow glow was soon blindingly bright in a matter of seconds, clinging to the Rapidash like a densely-packed aura before he forced it out and away, tossing his head upward to direct the blast of energy upward.

He didn't need to even watch to make sure that it made contact; the sudden surge of heat boiling like liquid adrenaline through him, accompanied by the flare of flames on his mane and tail, told him all that he needed to know.

The sudden glare of the now-burning sunlight did not go unnoticed by the two duelling humans. Sweat was trickling down their brows; the afternoon sun was bad enough, but throw in Sunny Day and the heat became stifling, and just about unbearable.

Still, the _cling_ of metal making contact with metal continued on, both sides pressing on for all they were worth. Even as Cid brought the staff down vertically, both daggers slipped out from their metal scabbards, Li Jun pushing the staff to the left just enough for him to perform a roll to the right, furling the daggers in close to his chest to avoid cutting himself as he dodged the next strike.

Cid didn't even blink before spinning his staff to readjust his grip, sending it flying almost immediately into a horizontal stabbing motion, the ball aimed directly for the other's head. It thus came as a surprise when the black-haired teen jumped, moving into a flip to avoid the blow, and while landing, made an attempt to injure him with the collapsible daggers.

 _A veteran, it looks like._ This was going to be a close match, the albino knew.

"A tactician, how curious." was the scathing sneer from the Spiritomb, who knew perfectly well why Helios did what he did. If it were in the same position, no doubt it would have done the same. _"Still, to us, that is of little concern."_

 _"Well, it should be."_ was the brief, almost amused reply. Tongues of sunset fire burst to life, arching in magnificent cascades around Helios as he charged straight toward the Spiritomb, embers flying from his fiery mane, tail and the flames he summoned to life around him.

Ordinarily, one wouldn't be able the touch a ghost, but the searing flames (and the horse) made contact, sending the Forbidden Pokémon and its rock flying backward. _"Urgh..."_

The grunt of what sounded like a small chorus of disapproving grunts was picked up by Li Jun, who allowed the mildest grimace to fleetingly control his expression, before it was banished into the darkest recesses of Arceus-knows-where. Twin silver flashes drew all eyes as the daggers slipped out from inside their metal scabbards, a quick horizontal slash with both parrying the heavy blow from his opponent. The sweltering heat was making them both miss more often than not, the insufferable rays reflecting off their heated metal weapons and blinding all present.

A heavy swing came his way, and Li Jun swung both daggers up to block, the horrible dragged out screeching of metal scratching metal causing him to cringe.

The sudden flash caused Cid to turn away; both daggers raised in defence reflected the sun's rays right into his eyes. Whether on purpose or not, the albino couldn't tell, but he knew that this moment was critical - at least, for him. He would be blinded for a little while more while his eyes adjusted back to normalcy, making it of utmost importance that he was extra attentive to the battle during this period, and on his guard for any well-placed blows that could cost him the match.

 _Over there._

His ears - just barely - caught the sound of a faint whistle through the air. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to swing up his staff to block without risking an overestimation of distance, Cid chose to hit the floor, wildly swinging out in a low sweeping kick with his eyes still closed.

The strangled cry cut short gave him the assurance he needed, if not for the fact that his foot made contact with nothing but thin air. "...?" Opening his eyes, Cid was greeted with a weird sight, but one that he was most definitely not complaining about.

Well, not complaining _that_ much about, anyway.

Li Jun had been disarmed and was now lying on the floor, with a single hoof above a rather strategic point over his chest. Dark eyes fixed on him as the Rapidash - Helios, he vaguely remembered its name being - nodded once, almost as if to signal that the battle had been settled.

"And the winner of the match is Cid Hibiki! Though we should consider giving credit to the Mon, probably," was the announcement from Miles, but it was categorised where it rightfully belonged - with the audio wallpaper.

 _"Well, that's that. Have a nice day, chap, we're outta here. Cheerio."_

The Spiritomb shuddered once, before it, rock and all, melted into the shadows, taking the soul of one Thanatos Endon along for the ride.

Two taps on the ground could be heard - Li Jun was signalling for the end of the match. For reasons unknown, Helios had refused to remove the hoof from the teen's chest, instead pressing down a little harder when the match results were announced.

 _By Arceus, I know you want to prove a point, but that isn't the way to do it…_ Max winced. That's gotta hurt.

"Lay off him, horse." Cid remarked. "Guy's already down for the count, no need to rub it in."

A snort was the albino's only verbal reply, but the Rapidash accordingly removed his hoof - though not before trotting over the teen's body. In a flash of red, the Fire Horse returned to the Ultra Ball in the albino's hands.

 _Clear display of dominance there._ Max shook his head with a sigh, but it didn't escape him that Atlas had clenched his left fist. Reddish-brown eyes met hazel ones after barely a moment; the black-haired teen smiled sheepishly, before hurriedly turning away. He had been spotted, he knew, but what he didn't get was why he felt _bad_ about having seen that.

The black-haired teen also didn't understand the fear he felt slowly growing after each battle.

"He's a good partner," were Cid's last words to Titian-haired Atlas even as the blue Ultra Ball was handed over, before the albino briskly walked off. Now, if anyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed the stiff posture of the staff-wielding teen, but as things stood, the rest of the people were sufficiently distracted by other prospects.

Basically, they were distracted by the prospects of lunch.

"While the field is being repaired, let us proceed to the Dining Hall for lunch." Samuel finally put his foot down, shooing the all the contenders from the field. His dark gaze, before he too left, fixated on the youngest of his fellow Elites, the teen named Volok Karnith - if that was even his real name.

The blond was leaving in a different direction, with only a raised hand to signal his leave that was quickly put down moments after.

Sometimes, Samuel wondered just what possessed Volok to accept the offer to join the Elites. No teen should have to go through what they did, especially not on a weekly - maybe even daily - basis. It was cruel, alright, but there didn't seem to be any other option. Besides, it wasn't as if the teen would talk to anyone, at least, not that he knew of.

 _"Ampharos."_ The small tug on his coat reminded him that he was the last one.

"Many thanks, Ampere." With the barest hint of sigh, the 38-year old left for the Dining Hall.

* * *

"Get out here, will you?"

It was phrased as a question, but she was under no illusions. It was a statement; an order, it could be taken as. But she wasn't one to take orders from anyone else, least of all, the male standing on the opposite side of the double doors.

A pause.

She jumped, landing on the ground with a quiet chink, metal biting into the ice just like how the cold bit into her flesh. Patterns were carved into the ice quicker than frost spread during the onslaught of winter, even as she slid across the room.

"It's an order from the top." Was the next sentence after a long moment of silence.

The faintest hint of a smile was allowed to touch her lips briefly. Now this was interesting. Rarely were there orders from him, and even rarer were the times when this guy - of all people! - had to bring them to her. "Come in," was her reply, and with two sharp claps, the mechanism unlocked itself, allowing the double doors with swung inward of their own accord.

Well, of her accord, really.

Seeing that dead expression on his face made her want to grin; no doubt, she was the lucky one for having escaped babysitting duty. A quick push, and suddenly, she was right next to him, in close enough proximity to play with bright red locks that looked like shattered rubies, burning flames and freshly spilt blood all at once. "So… what's so important that you had to come all the way here?" Her tone was light-hearted, teasing even, but she was well aware of the fact that he knew she was deadly serious.

"You'll need to take my place downstairs," he explained, not even moving when she sighed exasperatedly, tiptoeing to grab him by the shoulders. "Look me in the eye and repeat those orders." It was her way of verifying the truth, and sure enough, the redhead only stared her in the eye with his deadpan expression, before repeating his words.

"Elaborate, please!" She backed up a few steps, now well and truly infuriated. Why her of all people, and why babysitting of all jobs?

He sighed, running a hand through brutally short red locks. "I've gotten another job, and I'll probably only be back by tomorrow earliest." And it's not like I can decline, was the unspoken continuation that was very clearly expressed in his brooding gaze, that she picked up on with barely any effort - four years of working together usually gives those kind of results.

"Got it. I'll join them tonight, then." No compromises there, besides, no time frame was given. She shrugged in response to his slight grimace, but before he left the room, she took the time to leave him with just one more line.

"Stay alive."

He pauses, before raising a hand to acknowledge her statement as he continued on his path. "You too."

* * *

 **Characters:**

Max Rogers and Butterfree (Butterfree) - _blazelight790_

Reuben Fournier and Rye (Meowstic) - _MikeV1_

Launa Everett and Froslass (Froslass) - _maycontestdrew_

Cora Achlys and Mist (Crobat) - _DJTiki_

Blaise Candeloro and Lundstrom (Chandelure) - _Heir of Heart (formerly Arcana of the True Self)_

Samuel Troy and Ampere (Ampharos) - _Imagination Heaven_

Volok Karnith and ? (?) - _Kuro Shikaku_

Enoch Maxwell and ? (Audino) - _emosewa-13_

Atlas Cross and Helios (Rapidash) - _CrimsonSkyTamer_

Carl Ericsson and Yeager (Arcanine) - _Another Generic Gamer_

Verona Moore and Break-Neck (Pangoro) - _WereDragon EX_

? and Conrad (Medicham) - _MetaRaven135_

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Reuben is the cinnamon god of death. 'Nuff said. Also, I managed to write almost the entire battle scene this time, yay._

 _Also, curbstomp right there, lol. The goddess of poison, Achlys, versus the god of death, Thanatos - but it was clear from the very beginning just who the victor was. O w O_

 _Now, for the battle between Spiritomb and Helios - usually, the Spiritomb wins. And me being me and having planned out stuff, I went to Pokémon Showdown to confirm that Spiritomb wins. But no. Nooooooo. Spiritomb opened with a Sucker Punch and he missed._

 _Yeah, that's right, Sucker Punch missed._

 _As SD kindly reminds me, the chances of that happening are about 1 in 626, so really, I don't know what just happened there. Spiritomb, you had one job, bro. O W O_ _(Come to think of it, it was probably because I had Helios open with Sunny Day… yeah.)_

 _Also, as a little extra, Helios ended up winning the match with 14% of his HP left even though Spiritomb missed the Sucker Punch. Yeah. The Team Spirit is real._

 _Until next time, ciao! (O u O)/_

 _ **Next time on Crossroads: Signal**_


	9. Interlude II

_A/N:_

 _I do apologise for taking so long. I've actually been having exams, and somehow, came down with a fever that wouldn't go away. Have another Interlude, and beware of POV changes in alternate years?_

 _Once again, we get to meet mysterious people with no names..._

* * *

 **Interlude:**

 **Four**

* * *

 **Year 0**

He released a breath that he was unaware of holding. Now was the time.

 _Do you swear, on your name and honour, never to abuse the power entrusted to you by accepting this position? That you will put this land and its people before yourself? That you will do what is best for the land and the people, regardless of any circumstances? That you will not falter in your loyalty or your duty to what is right?_

The kneeling man before him, despite keeping his head lowered as was expected of him, made quite the intimidating sight. Considering his track record, however, it made the chill going down his spine all the more pronounced. However, when it came, the man's reply was quiet - silent, really.

 _By my name and honour, this, I swear: I will not abuse the power entrusted to me with the acceptance of this position. This region and its people will always come first and foremost, and all that I do will be with their best interests in mind at all times. Never will my loyalty falter; not even with the knowledge that I may lose all I hold close._

He nodded once, sharply. The oppressive weight of being on the dais - of having the gem-encrusted coronet on his head - was starting to wear on him, but he had to finish this. It wouldn't do to leave a half-baked impression in front of the others.

 _Your vow has been heard. Live by it, or face the consequences._

The cloak resting precariously on his shoulders slipped off as he stepped off the raised platform, walking down only to pause at the side of the kneeling man. He couldn't see the other's expression, but he surmised it was either one of surprise or disgust.

Really, it wouldn't surprise him if it were the latter.

 _Welcome to the Four._

He left the room in a few silent strides, disregarding the small noises of protest from the other people gathered in the room. As soon as he entered the corridor, deft fingers made quick work of the formal attire he was dressed in; the tie was loosened, and the first two buttons of his shirt were popped. Not caring about the cloak he had 'accidentally' left behind in the throne room with them, he ran a hand through his blond-brown locks, messing them up on purpose.

… He really should instate penalties for people smart enough to steal his hair ribbon, shouldn't he?

The sound of footsteps muffled by carpet gave him reason to pause. He didn't recognise these footfalls; they weren't the booted ones he was used to, and while he recognised the faint click of heels, they were in fact lighter than any other. In mere moments, he came to the conclusion that it had to be someone new who had followed him.

 _I believe that this is yours._

The younger man was just an inch shorter than him, but yet was more than capable of draping the snow white cloak over his shoulders. He raised his hands to refasten the golden chain on his own, but his hands were brushed away, and a warning glare sent straight at him, as the dark-haired younger man refastened the chain for him.

His gaze were fixated on the other's movements - they were fluid and graceful, almost as if used to this sort of menial tasks. A question rose to his lips, but died as soon as he met the gaze of the younger man. Only managing a quiet word of thanks, he left for his private rooms immediately, the blue sigils embroidered onto the cloak glittering under the last rays of sunlight streaming in from the windows.

If only he had just turned around, he would have seen the shadows that fell across the other's face.

 _I hope to one day... earn... the right to apologise._

* * *

 **Year I**

Pressing the nib of the pen lightly into the parchment, fully concentrating on ignoring the rough grain of the mahogany desk before him, he let the words flow.

 _ **My liege;**_

 _ **Regarding the uncertainty of the issues discussed previously…**_

The sharp claps that punctured the air startled him. He stopped himself from flinching, but failed to stop the jerk of his hand, causing a drop of black ink to dot the thick cream-coloured parchment.

Standing, he turned around, evenly meeting the hazel gaze he knew would be there, outwardly displaying no emotion that could lead to any misconceptions.

He had faith in his ability to-

 _There's no need for that,_ was the icy statement that reached his ears. _No doubt, the Lord wants to know all about my…ah, orthodox choice of actions._

The blond was angry, he knew, despite the casual tone and relaxed posture. Yet the anger he instinctively sensed was anything but obvious, buried beneath the manners and poise as befitting the firstborn son of a noble.

 _What exactly do you want?_

He opened his mouth to reply, but thought better of it, changing his reply at the last minute, careful not to give anything away in his dark brown gaze. _I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean._

The barest hint of a smirk curved the other's lips. _Such a liar, aren't you? But I honestly didn't expect any less._ A few purposeful strides closed the distance between them rapidly - too rapidly, in fact, for comfort. He barely registered the calculating gleam in hazel eyes before the man slowly placed both hands on the desk, lowering himself to meet his own dark brown gaze. That very action in itself suggested how much the blond had deigned himself to speak, but the dark smile hinted at another purpose behind the action - or was there?

He couldn't keep up with this game for much longer, and it was only a matter of time before he began to drown.

 _I'd stake everything on the fact that you do._ The voice was quiet; the words whispered in his ear. Since when had the other gotten even closer? He fought the urge to flinch, to run, to move backwards, to just _slap_ the damned man - but no, that would be seen as a challenge, if not an outright betrayal. And that alone would jeopardise his situation faster than a Rapidash being taken through its paces at top speed.

A low chuckle reached him when he failed to give a reply, the blond standing back up to leave the room. _You know your options - play nice, and perhaps I won't start a storm._ The smirk that touched the man's lips turned machiavellian for the briefest of moments; a swirl of bone white, and he was gone, the door swinging closed in the silence left behind.

 _...One of these days, I'll sign your death warrant._

He grimaced. There was no way he could finish the original contents of that letter now. But perhaps… that wasn't such a bad thing.

 _Though I have every confidence that you will have mine prepared well in advance before then._

* * *

 **Year II**

The electronic crackling would ordinarily drive him crazy, and with good reason too. He grimaced, a hand reaching out to rub his temples as the other hand reached out to fling off the white cloak that had become his trademark of sorts, fully anticipating the backlash and verbal abuse that would be hurled at him for allowing this visitor to once again arrive in the dead of the night.

Even though he had no jurisdiction over that.

Life wasn't fair, really.

A heavy hand landed on his head, messing up his blond-brown locks. "Hey there, little buddy." was the laugh, as a very familiar Porygon-Z darted around the haphazardly decorated dining hall. "How's it going in your neck of the woods?"

"Like anything in my neck of the woods, as you so eloquently put it, ever changes." He said, a mock-dour expression on his face, magnificently ignoring the yawns and dark looks from the other four people at the table that was just too long. "Especially now that I'm even used to your midnight arrivals - which really is a serious security concern, now that I think about it."

"Relax a little - it's not like just anybody is capable of taking me out, yeah?" The rhetorical question was accompanied by a wry smile that somehow, did nothing to assure all those present.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement, "Indeed," but it was a grim smile that he returned Nicholas. "If you truly were serious… well, let's not go there, shall we?"

The mood was never quite recovered after that, despite the smiles worn by all present. The Four excused themselves shortly, leaving the too-grandiose room with steps that seemed just a bit too slow, as if they were forcibly restraining themselves from bolting out of the room.

Was it really that daunting, having to face two people of a rank higher than theirs in the same room?

"Brilliant job scaring away the guards, Nick," he grinned, colouring his tone with mock amusement to cover up the cold rage that he felt inside. "I don't suppose you would scare me away as well?"

Being betrayed hurt. He had seen the ink on his hands, and even though logically, there was no other option, some part of him wished it hadn't come to this.

Was wanting to be able to trust someone really too much to ask for?

He winked conspiratorially, giving Nicholas free reign to do as he wished. After all, as he rightly said, no one could harm him. "Let's pretend I have paperwork left unfinished, shall we?"

He excused himself from the room, cloak billowing as he crossed the hallways into the opposite wing. The door swung inward without a sound, eerily reminding him of a certain night one year back.

He hoped tonight would play out differently.

Once again, dark brown eyes met his hazel ones as the room's occupant looked up, away from the thick parchment on the desk.

 _This is getting a little old, is it not?_ The other raised an eyebrow elegantly, with his simple act of putting down a fountain pen seemingly displaying irritation.

 _So it is._ He blinked, noticing the leather chair that had kept definitely not been there the last time. _…am I missing something?_

 _I figured you might want to sit while we discussed matters this time round._ Was the reply accompanied by the barest hint of a smile. The significance of the gesture did not go unnoticed, but he pulled off his cloak and took a seat anyway.

 _So, what are your transgressions this time?_ He began, _and don't think I haven't noticed you around the medical wing more often. I suppose you're looking at the medical records?_

It was meant to be a joke, but it didn't seem to be so to the other occupant of the room. Running a hand through his brutally short locks, the younger man replied quietly. _Actually, I've been looking for your medical records. There's absolutely nothing in your file, however._

 _And why would you need something as trivial as that?_ He asked, filled with equal parts curiosity and dread. _Besides, is it not common knowledge that my files are kept under lock and key by the head of the family?_

The stern look that he received in return from the younger man did not dissuade his dread; neither was it able to fully mask the apprehension felt by the other. _I have been tasked to retrieve the information - that's all there is to it._

He chuckled dryly, concealing his sudden worry. _I'd have to be a fool to believe you at face value._ Drumming his fingers on the desk, he took the time to organise his thoughts, casually ignoring the pointed glare shot his way as a sudden thought hit him.

There were few reasons why anyone would continue intelligence work even after being warned, each as unlikely as the one that preceded it. And he was fairly certain that the person with the loosest mental stability in this place was himself, so any reasons along that line could automatically be shoved into the bin. But maybe… just maybe…

 _You're one of them, aren't you? Higher up than even me._

Silence reigned over the room for several minutes. Surely it was a sign of admission, a signal of acknowledgement? Was it his imagination, or did the other look conflicted for just a moment?

 _… yes._

He contemplated for a moment, before standing up. Picking up his cloak with a smooth, fluid motion, he turned to leave the room, not even bothering to disguise his disappointment.

The confusion in the air was palpable, before the silence was finally graced with an explanation.

 _I have no doubt that I could remove you from this post with immediate effect. However, if I were to do so, I'd be forcing you to break the vow you made when you were sworn in._

He was absolutely positive the younger man was confused, and didn't know what to make of him, but he ignored it and swept out of the room - to do anything less would be nothing short of an insult to his upbringing. Dear Rayquaza, his parents were probably rolling over in their graves.

Wait… they weren't dead yet.

Ah well.

* * *

 **Year III**

What was he to do now?

This plan… it was undeniably intelligent, and way too convoluted for something that was supposedly cooked up over just the one year.

Especially considering how the pieces seemed to already be nicely in place.

He didn't know what to do. Should he inform the blond, and risk everything he knew simply because of 'loyalty'? Or should he inform Axon that the blond had suspicions, and fulfill his mission to secure the reign?

Decisions, decisions.

He ran a hand through his once-again brutally short locks, inwardly frowning at his incompetency. If he were any less of a man, he'd have been loyal and true - and a traitor to this country. But that didn't matter in the end, because he wasn't of here. He didn't belong here, and he never would.

But just because he didn't belong here, didn't mean that he had no loyalties to this place - to its inhabitants.

He saw the signs - the plan had been in effect long before it was told to him. And now, he could either be a good cog and let everything run the way it was supposed to, or he could malfunction and throw a wrench in the plans that were laid out.

Sometimes, he thought, power really was a chore.

 _Of course_ , was the voice that broke through his train of thought. A very familiar visage was standing in the open doorway of his office, white cloak haphazardly placed around broad shoulders. _You of all people should know that power corrupts. And absolute power-_

 _Corrupts absolutely._ He finished the saying dryly, to an acknowledging grim smile from the older man, who remained silent otherwise. _Yes, I'm well aware. You do remember that I'm trying to dispose of you, yes? So why are you making it easier for me by coming here?_

The blond laughed lowly, stepping into the room; the sound of the door swinging shut behind him made the tension in the room more tangible.

It was stupid of him, he knew, to provoke the blond, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to see that fury, that spark of life once again-

Before it was slowly stripped away.

 _I'm assuming from that expression of yours that you've found out about the price on my head,_ the older man mock-chuckled. _It'd be about time, too._

 _How can you be so casual about this?_ He grimaced, slamming a fist into the wood of his desk. _Do you not feel any fear that you could die at any moment, by either my hand or someone else's?_

Silence reigned, even as the older man stared at him in a manner that could only be described as curiosity. _I do believe that this is the first time I've seen you lose your cool._ Hazel eyes narrowed. _Why, have you gotten attached?_

He glared back furiously, silently daring the other to continue.

 _Please._ A hand ran through shoulder-length, blond-brown locks as the other finally turned his gaze away. _Really, you ought to give me a little more credit. I won't fall by your hand, nor by anyone else's._ That hazel gaze darkened, even as the temperature seemed to fall by a couple of degrees. _It'll be made to look like a natural cause. Over a period of time - a couple of years? - I'll be seen wasting away, before suddenly dropping dead at the end of it and no-one's the wiser._

He opened his mouth to speak, to deny it all, but no words came. Feeling exasperated and foolish, he closed his jaw, turning away to look at the walls of the room. There was, after all, simply nothing to say any longer.

 _...I wish it hadn't come to this._

His brow furrowed. Did the blond just say-?

 _But seeing as there's no way around it, I might as well let you finish the job here. It'd be faster, and a lot less painful, if I'm guessing right._

He had drawn his weapon before thinking about it - the cold metal slammed into the other man with all the force of a sledgehammer, sending him stumbling back a few steps. _Don't you dare quit just because there's no roads left; don't you ever surrender to me just because there isn't a way out any longer. There's no honour in such a loss._

 _Then what do you propose I do?_ Came the challenge.

Stumped, he returned his weapon to its holster. _I… don't know._

 _Then, I suggest the first order of business to be searching for a solution, and fast. Alternatively, you could make it quick and simply inform the Lord that I'm aware of the plan._ The older man shrugged, before standing up to leave yet again. He'd never seen the man looking so weary, so… defeated… before.

Wait.

He didn't know what possessed him, but he went ahead with the spontaneity anyway.

 _If I'm going to kill you, I'll do it on my terms. And that includes not killing you when you're a single breath away from dying due to your stupidity._ He took a breath, before shoving the other man out of his office. _So stay alive, you hear?_

He didn't see the other man's reaction, but somehow, he had the feeling that they both finally began to understand each other, if only a little.

* * *

 **Year IV**

The room was dark, almost pitch black. He sat on his throne upon the dias, a piece of parchment loosely held within a single hand, the weight of the coronet heavy upon his head.

Glowing eerily in the dark was the red gem set in the coronet, or maybe it was the flickering flame that was the only course of light in the room.

His eyes scanned the parchment, the rest of him unmoving even as an earth-shattering roar resounded from the lower levels of the tower. Just a little more, and maybe, things would finally end.

And he'd finally be free, either way.

Standing up, the man left the room, blond-brown hair tied back for once, even as his bone-white cloak fell to the floor yet again.

This time, however, there was no one around to pick it up.

 **(END)**


	10. Chapter 7

_A/N:_

 _I'M ALIVE HI-_

 _If you're reading this, I've done what I thought I wouldn't do, and (finally) mixed Mutual Killing Games and Pokemon. (Or the formats, at least.) I've introduced a little mechanic the Danganronpa fandom calls 'Free Time events'. Unfortunately, it was the only thing that would get me out of that writing block, so…_

 _Don't kill me?_

 _Also, many thanks to WereDragon EX and Amadeus Wolfang1011 for helping out with this chapter!_

 _Now… bon appetit? (It's actually lunch time here so… hahahaha-)_

* * *

 **Chapter 7**

 **Signal**

* * *

Lunch was a silent affair. The absence of three contestants, two of whom were in the medical wing, and the one who had been left in the morgue… well, the places set for them had been left empty, and it was, to Max, a grim reminder of what was to come.

At least Li Jun was still among them. Yeah, thank Arceus for small mercies. Probably.

"Hmm. Looks like I'll be the only one presiding over this afternoon's battles, then," was the casual statement from Samuel - much to the general uproar of the remaining combatants - as he carefully sliced into his Basculin fillet.

 _Come to think of it… He's right._ Max mused, not spotting either Volok or Enoch at the table. While the black-haired teen was aware of the latter leaving midway through the battles earlier, just when had the blond teen left?

"If you're not going to eat, the food is going to be wasted."

Spinning around so sharply that his neck almost went crack, Max was startled to see the same person as before. _Whiplash… ow._ He hadn't even noticed when the other actually sat beside him...

The young man had hair of solid cobalt, was the realisation now that Max was able to look a little closer, and his left eye was of the same stunning shade. That eyepatch still concealed his right eye beneath the lock of cobalt, leaving only guesses as to just what it hid. Blindness, perhaps?

"Um, you are-?" The teen hoped it'd be enough to cue for an introduction, and thankfully, he wasn't disappointed. A lone cobalt eye widened as a soft "ah" of realisation was heard, before the other hastily apologised for the lack of manners.

"Many apologies; my name is Bryon, Bryon Christophe."

* * *

 **Encounter: Bryon Christophe!**

 **Select:**

 **[Talk]** [Bag] [Pokemon] [Run]

* * *

Deciding to get the ball rolling, Max started the conversation. "So, why are you always commenting on my actions?"

"I'd say it's because you're quite the interesting individual." Bryon chuckled, but there was something about his smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - or eye, if one wanted to get technical. It wasn't picked up on by Max, however.

The teen cleared his throat awkwardly, making a subtle attempt to shift his chair slightly further away - an attempt that did not go unnoticed by the other, who did not - didn't want to? - comment. "Now that just sounded… wrong."

 _This guy is a stalker. Enough said._

"My sincere apologies." Oddly enough, the guy really did seem apologetic - he wasn't the first one, that was for sure. "It's just odd to find someone not involved in the sprawling feuds yet."

Max's brow furrowed. He didn't like the sound of this. "...feuds?"

"You didn't know?" was the question accompanied by yet another curious gaze. Bryon stayed silent for a little, before continuing. "I assumed you were staying solo, since you were around both sides?"

The teen sighed. "Do I even want to know?"

"If you want to avoid getting killed or dragged into the feud, then yes, probably." The cobalt-haired man informed, chuckling when his reply was a startled look reminiscent of a Stantler under headlights. "Just kidding. It's more of challenger-challenger animosity than anything, but you never know when someone might try to… thin out the competition."

Nodding slowly, Max opened his mouth to reply, but soon closed it again when he realised that he couldn't really say anything back. Bryon seemed to be able to take a hint, however, even an interpreted one, for he turned back to his meal with a small nod and a quiet "Good day".

Max let out a small sigh of relief. _It's a good time as any to make my escape._

* * *

 **Select:**

[Talk] [Bag] [Pokemon] **[Run]**

 **Max got away safely!**

* * *

The next few minutes were passed in somewhat comfortable conditions, with the air punctuated every now and then by the idle chatter of the contenders. As usual, the food was good, and despite the total number being less than what it was yesterday, things were just about the same.

"Pardon me." The telltale creak of a chair garnered all attention, as every pair of eyes flickered towards the person who had just stood up.

Looking a tad uncomfortable, Cid quickly apologised. "I'm really sorry, but since I've finished my meal, I was thinking of getting some fresh air…"

"By all means, Cid, do go ahead." Samuel said gently. "We're not your prison guards." He then looked down the row for a few moments, seemingly searching for something. "If anyone else wishes to leave, please go ahead. Just be present at the field before the next battle starts." It wasn't a statement so much as it was an order.

A quick nod of acknowledgement, before the other teen was out the room, followed closely by his Electivire, who had apparently ditched the fighter he was assigned to. The doors weren't given a chance to close, for several others soon filed out of the room as well, some leaving behind half-emptied plates.

 _Looks like the lunch atmosphere got to some, huh?_

Blaise too left the room, Lundstrom once again sweeping up the candle wax left in her wake. Thomas followed shortly after with a yawn, muttering something about needing a nap…

Well, Max supposed, he didn't really need to know that.

The last person to leave was Atlas, and he closed the door behind him, leaving just under half the number of people who had been seated there previously. _How… daunting._

"...well, I guess that's that." Shrugging, Samuel once again returned his attention to his meal, though his gaze flickered occasionally to the remaining candidates.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

Forcefully wrenching his gaze away, Max turned to face his other side, where a young man with a head of silvery-grey hair and eyes that looked like aquamarine met his gaze.

"..."

"..."

 _"Would you perhaps like to chat?" was the question stated by both at the exact same time, after an indefinite awkward pause._

 _Well._

* * *

 **Encounter: Alister Little!**

 **Select:**

 **[Talk]** [Bag] [Pokemon] [Run]

* * *

Clearing his throat, Max said, "Hi. Name's Max; Max Rogers."

"I'm aware," the pale haired teen responded evenly, turning slightly to better face Max. "I am Alister. Or Alister Lewis Little, if you would prefer that instead."

Max held up his hand, laughing nervously. _How does he know who I am?_ "No, no. Alister is fine. Although, how-"

"How do I know your name?" Alister completed his sentence for him, a small smile forming on his lips. Max nodded. "I only keep my eyes and ears open. More so than most others. You would be surprised by all the information you could glean from the world whilst everybody is busy talking... if you only stay quiet and listen."

 _Huh. Creepy. Again._

"So. Did you also hear me speaking with Bryon, then?"

Max received a nod in answer.

"Do you know what he was talking about?" he asked curiously, inching a little closer to Alister. "About the feuds, I mean."

The pale haired boy frowned a little, knitting his brows together in thought. Max waited patiently. He was done with his food anyway.

"How much do you know about the League and the Cabal?" Alister asked quietly, his gaze hinting at Max to lower his volume as well. It wouldn't do for their conversation to be overheard.

"The League and the what?"

The pale-haired teen blinked. "...the rebels."

Max thought about it for a few moments. "I don't know much, really. Neither side has disturbed the forest yet, so…"

"It's said that the rebels are aiming for control over the regions by messing with the tournaments," Alister nodded slightly. "Infiltration, blackmail, gatecrashing… You name it, it's probably been thought of."

"Damn," Max muttered under his breath. "I didn't even have a clue that all this was happening under my nose."

"You never did get involved with anyone overmuch," Alister pointed out. "It's the safest thing to do, in my opinion. Something Mr. Fletcher must apparently learn to do."

 _I'm with you on that one, buddy._

"Are you ready for the next set of battles this afternoon?" Alister asked, eyeing him curiously. Max sighed.

"As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. How ready can you be for what could quite possibly be the last thing you ever do?"

A curtain of silence fell between the two contestants as they recalled the events of the previous battles. One among their number was already dead. It was unsettling, to say the least, knowing you could end up the same way.

"You make a good point," Alister said finally as he rose from his seat and faced Max fully. "It has been a pleasure conversing with you, Max Rogers. I wish you all the luck in the trials ahead. Perhaps we can talk some more later, if we both make it out."

 _Yeah. **If**. Thanks for the vote of confidence._

"Best of luck to you too, Alister." Max quietly stated to the retreating teen's back, who smiled over his shoulder at him before making his way out of the room.

With a sigh, the teen pushed his empty plate away. Should he look for another conversation partner…?

 _Nah, maybe not._

Leaning backwards into his chair, the teen stretched a little, hearing a few pops as he did so, followed by a heavy crash as his chair slipped, causing him to land on the floor heavily.

"Need a hand?"

* * *

 **Encounter: LeAnna Pierce!**

 **Select:**

 **[Talk]** [Bag] [Pokemon] [Run]

* * *

Without waiting, the black-haired teen was pulled to his feet.

"So-" Max begun, only to get cut off almost immediately.

"There's no need for thanks. Farewell." Her piece having been said, the maroon-haired lady walked off, followed closely by a Fennekin that turned her nose up at him.

 _Wow. Rude much?_

Huffing quietly, the teen sat back down in his seat, only to practically jump out of it after hearing the resultant chuckle.

"She's just touchy like that, don't worry your little head about it."

* * *

 **Encounter: Chikae. K!**

 **Select:**

 **[Talk]** [Bag] [Pokemon] [Run]

* * *

Max blinked. For some reason, she looked pretty familiar… _Ah._ "In the first match?"

"...?" She looked confused, not that he could blame her. It was kind of difficult to catch the train of thought of another, especially without any given context whatsoever.

Yeah, it was his fault. _Good job, Max. Way to converse with people. Full marks!_

"That Steelix was your partner, wasn't he?" The black-haired teen clarified; really, he could have kicked himself.

The expression on Chikae's face cleared up somewhat, before she flashed him a bright smile and a thumbs-up. "Stahl is my partner, yeah. Pretty cool match, wasn't it?"

"Big doo-doo head." was the only statement needed, and perhaps it was a good thing, for Max couldn't stop his laughter afterward. Heck, just containing it to an acceptable volume was difficult enough.

Containing it to a volume such that Miles couldn't hear it, though, was a challenge of the greatest supremacy.

"Yeah, I like those cutesy little insults. They tend to throw people off more than actual burns sometimes, especially if they're coming from someone like lil' me, no?" Chikae smirked, twirling a lock of her braided white hair. Come to think of it, there was somebody else that Max had seen so far with white hair, but...

Hazel eyes travelled down the long table, and indeed, the teen caught sight of a flash of white next to solid black - somehow, impossibly, Miles was seated next to a guy.

 _Wait, no. Wrong person._

Rather, the skirt-chaser he had seen around was seated next to Miles, and out of the range of any female in a two-chair radius. He was making small talk with the host, all the while buttering a potato.

"Looking at Saber, huh? Didn't know he was your type."

Max spluttered - he seemed to be doing that very often, come to think about it. And especially around the ladies too. What was up with ladies and their incorrect assumptions?! "No, no; most definitely not - it's just… his hair colour…Yours...um..."

"Hm?" Chikae puffed a stray lock of hair that had fallen over her brown eyes to one side. "What about it?"

"It looks similar…" _I'm probably wrong._ "Kind of?"

She crossed her arms with another smile. "I should hope so."

His confusion must have been obvious, but Chikae simply kept smiling, before playing with another lock of hair. What reason could there have been for this similarity… they couldn't have just both dyed their hair, could it?

 _Nah, too simple._

"Are you… his fan?" Shit, he hadn't meant for it to come out. Max quickly covered his mouth with a hand, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment.

That didn't stop her from doing a spit take, before putting one hand to her mouth and laughing. "His fan?! Oh please, the day Saber ever gets a girl to fall head-over-heels for him, I'll change my name to Lancer!"

 _Then? Why the similarity, if you're not a fan?_ The teen was close to facepalming at his incompetency to guess. Was he overthinking it, or underthinking it - if that even was a thing? Or was it just plain coincidence, which so loved to mess with him?

No, he hadn't forgotten the incident which nearly took off his head.

"So…" Max ventured again, not harbouring much hope, "Did you both just accidentally grab the same brand and colour of hair dye at the store?"

Chikae made a face at him. "Yeah, and we both also _coincidentally_ chose the same fashion sense to come here in. Although, to be honest, that really was a coincidence, unless Saber found out what I was gonna wear in advance and dressed up just to annoy me."

He blinked. "Was that… sarcasm?" _Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was._

"The first part was, yeah."

"So… it wasn't coincidence?" Okay, now he was really getting confused. Max shook his head, trying to ignore the fact that all logic was starting to make no sense, and that the world wasn't following the laws of physics… "Should I even be understanding this?"

Chikae looked at him, a smirk on her face. "I would have thought your parents had taught you all about the Delibirds and the Combees by now."

"Yeah, well, I don't-" The teen was rudely interrupted by a sudden bout of coughing that most definitely did not sound normal. Unless, of course, normal coughs sounded like people about die, and with the inclusion of spitting out blood.

The maroon-haired Anna from earlier had already passed out, with the person Max recognised to be the Medicham's trainer still violently coughing out blood. Looking around, there were at least three more people with blood splatters on their plates, and even he himself was beginning to feel a little queasy.

"Cora!" was the shout as Samuel all but ran over to the named person in question, who was simply laughing. "Arceus-dammit, I _told_ you not to pull a stunt like this!"

She simply tossed her head back and let out yet another peal of laughter, standing up and making her way out of the dining hall. "Since I've already killed one, might as well do a clean job, no?"

With a "tsk" of obvious disapproval, Samuel glanced around the room, taking in the situation. "Is anyone relatively unaffected by the poison? I will need those who can move around to split into two groups - one to chase down those who have left, and the other to get the antidote from the infirmary." What he didn't mention was that if Volok had raided the room before he left, there would be no hope for those who had taken too large a dose.

After all, the blond Elite has recognised the poison; not as one of Cora's specialities, but rather, one of Volok's. Just how _Cora_ of all people had gotten her hands on it he wouldn't understand, and though he hazarded a guess, the lives of the contenders were of greater importance.

He could deal with Cora later.

"I'll go look for those who have left." Bryon took off almost immediately. With a shrug, Saber followed after a heartbeat, Chikae too taking off immediately after.

Miles sighed. "And why would they think of running off without sending extra Pokemon to help, I wonder…" The announcer was clearly unhappy about the duty allocation, but clapped his hands, signalling for his Magnemite to chase after the unlikely trio. "I'll go look for the antidote, then." Fuchsia eyes met hazel ones, before the black-haired man grinned. "Oh, and Maxie-boy is coming with me."

 _Why. Just- why._

The teen didn't quite expect it, but Miles most definitely had a deceivingly strong grip. He was dragged out of the hall, fighting to keep his balance as Miles dragged him down a few hallways, past doors that looked all the same.

"Listen, Max." It was the first time he had ever heard the older man sound serious, and he wasn't including the battle with Anton on that. "The antidote is likely to be in a black bottle with a red stopper. Don't question the colour scheme-"

"Wouldn't that look more like a bottle of poison?" The teen couldn't help himself, and regretted it after the dirty glare sent his way by the announcer.

"I said _listen_. That should be the only bottle in the medical wing. If it's not there, head back to the dining hall immediately and inform Samuel. Get it?"

Max nodded, but then realised something. "What about-"

"I'm going to search the other medical wing." Miles said blandly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "What did you expect?"

"...good point." The black-haired teen conceded, before dashing off for the infirmary. The lives of who knows how many people were riding on this, and Max wasn't about to fail.

Miles waited until the teen had left, before leisurely walking up the Champion's Tower. _Other medical wing indeed._ "If he actually finds the bottle, well, Volok wasn't as careful as he should have been," the announcer mused, even as the doors to the top floor swung open with a blast of icy air.

* * *

When the doors swung open, the first thing that greeted him was the strong, overpowering stench of anaesthesia. That, and the overly sterile smell of bleach. But Max was thankful for it even so, for in a way, it almost completely covered the metallic tang in the air, and even though he could taste the red iron in his mouth, the teen ignored it and pressed forward.

The medical room was, contrary to conventional expectations, not white. It was coloured in hues of soft blue - which wasn't really much better. A quick glance around showed plenty of basic medical supplies just lying around on cabinets, with two out of twelve beds occupied, but somehow, not a single bottle like the one Miles had described in sight.

 _...what now?_ The teen could feel the panic rising, but squashed it down before cautiously stepping further into the room, beginning to methodically search through the piles of bandages, medical tape and gauze on the drawers. The contents inside the drawers proved to be of no help either, with many unlabelled packets of pills, but nothing even remotely resembling the bottle that Miles had mentioned.

Time was running out, Max knew. He didn't know how, but his instinct told him that he needed to hurry. Even now, he felt embers starting to ignite in his blood, searing heat slowly starting to cripple his ability to move. _I must have gotten poisoned as well… shit, if I don't make it back, then what?!_

Forcing the thought from his mind, the teen hurriedly continued searching, when-

"You as well?" A slight pause, before the other person spoke again. "Wait, no… it's everyone, isn't it? Everyone was - sorry, _is_ \- poisoned."

Max's throat went dry at the revelation. He was poisoned, but surely it was just him and the few others? "How… how can you be so certain?"

"..."

Silence.

"Fine, be that way." Max carefully made his way over to where the voice originated from. He had a feeling that he should recognise the voice, but he didn't, leaving him only one option as to how to find out who the other person was. "I'm coming over."

"Be my guest." was the dry reply, and as Max reached the other end of the room, he saw someone seated on one of the leather couches - in fact, the last person that he'd expected to see.

Titian-coloured hair was the first thing that greeted him.

"I would stand to greet you, but it'll take a little while longer before I can move, I'm afraid." Atlas laughed quietly, but the expression on his face was anything but amused. The pain that was seemingly etched into the other's face was coloured with something unidentifiable, but didn't seem to be aimed at Max in particular. "You're here for the antidote, are you not?"

"Yeah." The teen replied, only to barely catch a bottle that had been tossed to him - a black bottle with a stopper of red crystal. A glance told him that even that simple toss had taken a lot out of the older man, whose arm now hung limp from his side. Was the poison really that dangerous?

Then again, considering at the fire that was still eating away at his ability to move, it probably was.

 _Wait… What's going on here?_

* * *

 **Encounter: Atlas Cross!**

 **Select:**

[Talk] [Bag] [Pokemon] **[Run]**

 **Max got awa-**

* * *

"I… Really don't think we have time for a conversation right now," the teen said awkwardly, unsure if he was interrupting anything. To be fair, the scene was a little private.

Atlas sighed - a small exhale of air that was almost silent. "Yes," he agreed, "it would seem so."

Max nodded, thankful for the agreement; no doubt things would have been awkward otherwise. But why couldn't he shake off this uncomfortable feeling?

 _Unless..._

"Take it."

To say that Max was surprised was most definitely not an understatement. His eyes narrowed in equal parts of suspicion and cautiousness. "How do I know you've not poisoned it?" Atlas seemed surprised - shocked even, but the teen forged on. "I only learnt about the existence of this bottle after Miles told me about it - and that was after Samuel told people to go to the infirmary, which was after people started coughing out blood. And if I remember right, you left the room way before that."

"..." The redheaded man had nothing to say in his defence. Anything that could have been said would only serve to rile up the boy, or to further compromise his position. Silence was the only answer that he could afford to give.

"So either you were the one who spiked the food and was somehow _stupid_ enough to poison yourself, or you're hiding some secret. What, are you infiltrating the tournament to kill someone?"

Atlas sighed. "I should have thought that the fact that I am poisoned myself should be enough to disprove your first theory."

"Ever heard of constructing an alibi?" Max shot back, now well and truly infuriated.

"Ever thought that maybe I've been poisoned by Cora before?" Atlas shook his head. He would have facepalmed if he could, but even that was a stretch in his current condition. Almost as if its occupant had heard his thoughts, the Dusk Ball attached to his belt quivered ever so slightly, but the movement went unnoticed by both males.

The teen's grip on the bottle tightened. He couldn't quite tell where the fever burned any longer - it felt the same as the liquid rage flooding his veins. How dare he. "And why, in Arceus' name, would that ever happen?"

"Because…" Atlas hesitated, almost as if unwilling to speak. After a minute or two of silence, he turned away, hiding his expression from the only other conscious person in room. "Cora is… or rather, Cora _was_ , my former-"

A loud _thud_ punctuated the air, successfully cutting his sentence into half.

"-partner."

Well. It seems like there wasn't a need to continue his sorry 'tale' after all.

"Now… how do I get him up here?" The redhead asked seemingly no one in particular. After all, he was the only person left conscious in the room. He closed his eyes, before nodding once, almost as if he could hear something in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of breathing. Taking in a deep breath, his hand reached down, fingers lightly brushing against a ball of vibrant blue. "It's all up to you now."

A brilliant flash of white signalled the release of the Pokemon from its Ultra Ball, before being replaced by the fiery shades of burning sunset.

Without a sound, the Rapidash lowered its head, prodding something on the teen's belt - something that had been shaking rather violently.

Yet another flash of white filled the room. This time, however, it was dispersed by a shower of sparks. _"Wassup, Ponyboy? Why'd ya call Spark out?"_

 _"Halt that thought right there; we're getting the antidote out."_ Helios huffed, picking the unconscious Max up by the scruff of his jacket and dropping him unceremoniously on the leather couch next to the redhead, who only smiled gratefully.

Laughing voraciously, the Rotom sped into the nearest piece of equipment he could find - a vacuum cleaner off to one side - and possessed it. Using his newly-acquired sucker, he inhaled the bottle, before spitting it out at Atlas, who just barely managed to catch it. Wrenching the stopper open, the redhead tipped a few pills into Max's mouth.

 _"I'm pretty sure that's an overdose."_ The Rapidash pointed out, to much cackling from the Rotom and a weak shrug from the redhead.

"Better safe than sorry." With his piece being said, Atlas flicked the bottle at the two Pokemon - catching it in his mouth, Helios made his way out of the room, followed closely by Spark. The redhead watched them leave, the faintest trace of an odd expression making its way to his face. "Think I should tell them that I let you poison me in order to figure out which one the right antidote was?"

The Dusk Ball still attached to his belt shook once more, this time more violently, almost as if its occupant was laughing. After all, its venom was significantly less dangerous than whatever the combatants had been poisoned with… or was it more dangerous?

He didn't know.

After all, Cora didn't use the same poison twice.

* * *

 _"So where are we off to, eh? Got a map hidden in that fire of yours, Ponyboy?"_

 _"Will you **stop** calling me that before I short-circuit you with said fire?"_

The Rotom laughed. _"Two words for ya, mate: blow me!"_

A controlled exhale told clearly of the Rapidash's patience that was quickly wearing thin. _"Two words for you, 'mate': hell no."_

"Over here, Spark!" was the call that echoed down the hallway. Recognising the voice, both Pokemon followed it accordingly back to Saber. "Is that the antidote?"

 _"Right in one, Sabertooth, my man!"_ The Rotom cackled, sending a little jolt of electricity to the Rapidash in a signal for the bottle to be handed over.

With a long-suffering sigh, Helios tossed the bottle over. Without waiting to see if it was caught, the Fire Horse Pokemon dashed away, back in the direction of the medical wing, leaving the obnoxiously-laughing Rotom behind with its Trainer.

"So, this thing is the antidote?" Saber questioned, holding the bottle up to the light. Being opaque, it wouldn't let him look at the contents, but the quiet rattling told the albino all he needed to know. "I guess I'll head back to Samuel first, then. You go on ahead?" This last was directed at Chikae, Bryon having split from their little group a while back.

Not bothering to wait for a reply, the male dashed away, leaving his female look alike behind.

"Yeah, sure, leave the lady behind. No worries." A slight laugh coloured her tone, as Chikae K. strolled off in a seemingly random direction. "We both know that I'll be perfectly alright, after all." Somehow, this last was said with nothing short of utter conviction, almost as if she was absolutely sure of what would happen next.

But it wasn't possible…?

The doors to the dining hall burst open with a loud slam, drawing all eyes and a highly audible sigh of relief from the older Elite. "Oh, for the love of Suicune…" Samuel sighed, before motioning for the white-haired playboy to distribute the antidote. "If anyone dies, _Saber_ , there'll be more than just your head on the line."

 _The guy must really hate me_ , Saber mused, for his name to be so terrifyingly butchered by a tone so eerily similar to a snarl and - dare he say it? - a crackle of electricity. But dear Arceus, it wasn't the small cute spark that Brittany flared, oh no. If Brittany was a spark, Samuel was an entire thunderstorm.

Damn, he needed to watch his step.

It didn't take him very long to distribute the bottle that was, rather surprisingly, barely half full. Whether it would work or not, the teen had no idea, but honestly, it meant less competition if it didn't work. Which was always a good thing, if you didn't take into account the continued existence of the poisoner.

Life here at the Plateau really sucked sometimes.

Thankfully, it didn't take too long after that for the mess to be cleared up. Most of the people who had left the room prior were found, with an adamant Cora being dragged back and kept under the watchful eye of Ampere the Ampharos. She refused to reveal the contents of the poison, but was more than willing to make another batch to poison everyone yet again. _Such a stubborn one_ , Saber sighed, _hopefully she won't get another chance to pull any funny stunts._

Even if he was a playboy with no qualms in flipping skirts, he did treasure his life. After all, how would be be able to flip skirts if he were dead?

"The next match will be between numbers three and twenty."

 _Ah, shit,_ realisation hit the albino teen. _I wasn't paying attention just now…_

"Let the battle commence."

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **The Death Cruzer, Verona Moore VS Bryon Christophe**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

Within ten seconds of the signal to commence, frustration etched itself across Verona's visage, as she stared across the battlefield at her opponent, who, in defiance of the referee's call, remained immobile. "So, you gonna start anytime soon?! I haven't got all day, you know!"

"Oh, don't be so impatient, miss. At your leisure."

A quick glance survey of the terrain told Verona that her and Bryon's temporary partners did not quite share that sentiment, for Carol the Mamoswine had already charged forward, intent on goring the Electivire with her tusks, the teeth sharpened to sleek perfection as they glimmered in the afternoon sun. Verona cursed under her breath, knowing that her temporary partner Maximus' elemental affinity disadvantaged him in this matchup, but quickly tore her attention away from the sight, desiring to focus on more pertinent matters.

"Fine then, if you won't move, then I will!" Fingers tightened around the hilt of her blade, Verona gritted her teeth before she followed Carol's example, her feet shattering the silence with a series of echoing stomps on the hard terrain. Had she thought it unusual that Bryon made no attempt to dodge or otherwise evade, Verona quickly banished such from her mind, desiring to wrap up the battle as quickly as possible.

She would quickly regret that particular lapse in judgment, for mere milliseconds before her bloodthirsty blade could connect, the man sidestepped swiftly to his right, causing the kilij to cut nothing more than the space he once occupied. Verona turned her head in the direction to which her opponent had retreated…

…only to be met with the hard strike of a solid iron pommel against her right cheek.

Winded from the sudden blow, Verona staggered back slightly, making her easy pickings for Bryon's next blow, this one aimed at her midsection. Sensing the incoming attack, Verona kicked forward, deliberately causing herself to fall hard onto her back, but causing the slash from the claymore to pass harmlessly overhead.

Bryon stepped forward, looming over his downed opponent, his lips parsed slightly before he spoke. "Clumsy footwork, could see what you were going to do the minute you started. A real pity, you know, was hoping for a more dynamic opponent…" As the words escaped his being, he clasped both hands around the hilt of his sword, bringing the blade down with full force, his intent to vertically bisect the woman evident from his stance.

Reacting within a split second, Verona brought her own weapon up to bear, both blades singing in a resounding clash of polished steel, the claymore attempting to push downward, and the kilij making a defiant bid to stop that progress, its arc of metal defiantly pushing back again the other blade. Slightly frustrated at his opponent's counter, Bryon increased the force he currently exerted.

Such an effort did, however, make him blind to the swift kick that was delivered to his midsection, courtesy of Verona. Caught off-guard by the sudden hit, Bryon staggered backwards slightly, before his mental awareness, honed from years of combat training, kicked in. Realizing that his opponent could very well capitalize on this opponent, Bryon immediately swung down with his sword, directly over the spot Verona lay prone…

…or at least, where she had laid prone just a split second ago.

Bryon's eyes widened as his claymore struck nothing but dirt. No sooner did his sword impact the ground, however, did he feel a whoosh of wind to his right, his reflexive response keeping his opponent from cleaving his hands clean off. Following the initial clash of blades, the man quickly found himself on the defensive, as Verona struck hard and fast with a flurry of swipes from her weapon, each one knocking her opponent's frame backwards inch by steady inch.

The man gritted his teeth in frustration, realization crossing his features as one thing became certain in his mind. In his attempt to deny his opponent an opening, he had given her one regardless, and she was now gleefully using it to turn the tables on him. Thinking on his feet, Bryon dug his right heel into the hard ground, impeding any further attempts by Verona to knock his backwards and off-balance.

Verona chose that very moment to let her words fly. "You call this swordplay? So be it. A word of advice to you though, I play for keeps…"

* * *

Max awoke to the comforting feeling of warmth - a feeling he hadn't encountered in a long while. He rifled through his last memories as fast as he could, trying to bring to mind what happened in the last few moments before he collapsed.

 _Ah. That's right._ Atlas had the bottle, he started a shouting match… and the poison.

Oh good lord, the _poison_.

Now looking at his surroundings, the black-haired teen recognised the blue walls of the infirmary - or medical wing, whatever it was called. He had more important things to think about right now, such as why he was on the couch, when he was absolutely certain that he collapsed on the floor.

And not to mention the obviously empty Dusk Ball on the floor where Max assumed he had been standing earlier.

A quick glance to his right told him that the Titian-haired man next to him was asleep. Atlas' face was slightly pale, but aside from that, no abnormalities were spotted. The teen frowned. It would be easy to just slip away and pretend nothing ever happened, but…

 _"Rapidash."_

Well, his luck was just absolutely great, wasn't it? Max sighed, before deciding not to get off the couch. From the dark look that the Fire Horse Pokemon was giving him, the teen figured that it would be easier if he didn't move, and indeed, the horse seemed to relax a little.

 _Huh. First time I've ever seen a Pokemon so independent of its trainer._

"Hey," he began, by way of conversation, "I don't suppose you can tell me how the others are doing?"

Helios merely stared blankly, before tossing his mane in a little half-hearted gesture that really could mean anything.

"I thought so."

 _Guess I can't do anything, huh?_

* * *

Samuel sighed. "Numbers six and twelve, please."

"Fine by me."

Words that were unnecessary should never be used. A wastage, that was what it was. Her alice blue eyes narrowed, thick maroon plait shifting only slightly as she tossed the bright red Pokeball upward. A blinding flare of white, before out of the blue, she felt the temperature rise - or had a heat wave settled in?

 _"Arcanine."_

The flash of fire did not go unnoticed by Saber, who only chuckled dryly. "Now, I would very much like to battle, but as you can see, I'm facing a little… issue here."

Within the albino's hands were the two halves of a Pokeball, but there was no Pokemon to be seen.

"...?"

Saber shrugged. "He bailed on me, yowling something but refusing to leave Anton's bedside."

"Does that mean you forfeit?" Samuel questioned, only to raise an eyebrow when something rang across the field. It was a horrible sounding mess of notes, and earned cringes from more than one person - and rightfully so, due to how horrible it was.

The offended looks shot at the blond Elite simply caused him to shrug. "What? It was the first and only time I allowed Ampere to touch the piano." Said Ampharos facepalmed, but did nothing else except to wave a stubby paw in mock-annoyance.

Pulling out a PokeG Plus, he flipped the screen, watching on with what seemed like fond exasperation as a holographic screen containing a message popped up. "...hey, Miles?" He questioned, even as an uncomfortable air began settling down in the area. "Just how badly would the ratings be affected if Cyrille here battles without a partner?"

"Hmm…" The fuchsia-eyed announcer grinned, before laughing conspiratorially. "Contrary to that, there'd probably be an increase in ratings. But it'd be quite unfair, no?"

Shoving his left hand into the pocket of his trench coat, Samuel's expression darkened just a little. The _crackle_ of electricity was heard as Ampere placed a stubby paw inside that same pocket, before vanishing in a flash of red light. In the next moment, a blue and yellow blur flew straight for Saber. It was testament to the albino's quick reflexes that he managed to catch the Quick Ball without it smashing into his face, but the resulting electricity did nothing more than to earn a small flinch.

"Is this-?" Saber began to ask, but never had the chance to finish his question.

 _Shing!_

The blade of the machete now pointed right at him - barely an inch away from his throat - couldn't have felt colder than the weight of that dark brown gaze, courtesy of one Samuel Troy. _Since when had he gotten over here, and just how fast had he moved?_ The albino only smiled, covering up most excellently the slight stiffening that ran its course through his body. "I would assume that this isn't out of the kindness of your heart."

"Of course not." It came out lower than expected. Ignoring the amused commentary from Miles, the Elite pushed his blade forward a little more. "Harm either one of them, and rules be damned - your head will roll." This last statement was quiet, so quiet that only both of them heard it. Saber knew what he was getting at, Samuel knew, and with one last glare to prove a point, the Elite returned his machete to its former location, before heading back to his original position, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the small crackles of electricity.

He regretted his choice already.

 _Father - please. Please lend Ampere to Saber, just for this one match._

Samuel sighed. Honestly, the things he did for his daughter…

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **Saber Cyrille VS The Hellstorm, LeAnna Pierce**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

Within the fraction of a second, both the Arcanine and the Ampharos met on the field, the fire-type having used Extreme Speed to close the distance in a matter of moments. A Heat Wave flared, even as Yeager let fly a Close Combat almost immediately after.

 _I won't let you have any time to rest._

Ampere didn't even flinch at the burning wind, choosing instead to meet the Close Combat blows head on with a glowing Thunder wrapped around a paw. This one punch didn't prevent her from taking damage, but a small smile reached her face nonetheless. _"You're a bit too rash, aren't you?"_

 _"Why you-!"_ The Arcanine growled as minor electric shocks ran through his body, causing him to convulse a little. _Shit, I forgot about Static._ Shaking it off, the Legendary Pokemon leapt at his opponent once more-

Only to have to bound back as a shower of knives flew in the general direction of their battle.

Infuriated, Yeager let loose a loud roar at his 'partner', that girl with maroon hair. What was she thinking, honestly?

 _"Really, that one has no respect at all."_ Ampere shrugged lightly, having jumped backwards a short step in order to avoid the stray knives. "How rude," was the comment as she daintily kicked at a knife. _"But these seem to be of pretty good quality."_

 _"Focus. Please."_ If he could, Yeager would have rolled his eyes. Darting in close in a matter of seconds, the Arcanine charged up Dragon Pulse, before letting the condensed energy fly.

 _"Oh, but I am."_ Ampere dodged with what seemed to be absurd ease, which was really only redirecting his blast with yet another Discharge-coated paw in the opposite direction of her dodge. _"I do hope you're ready."_

Feeling metal beneath his paw pads, the Arcanine's eyes widened just a moment before realisation - and a blast of electricity - ran through him.

Brushing the dust off her paw from where she had slammed Thunder onto the metal knives so conveniently flung their way, Ampere hopped out of the arena with a broad smile. _"Well, that's that."_

"Oh, come on…" Saber groaned, having to dodge yet another quick flurry of punches. After the initial fifty-or-so knives flung at his face by LeAnna _in one shot_ by swinging that red wrap dress of hers - which he only barely dodged, thank you very much - he now had to deal with wires and hand-to-hand combat, forcing him to stay on his toes for practically the entire duration. Keeping most of his weight on his front leg, Saber knocked away another punch with an unprotected forearm, wincing at the contact, but it bought him enough time to bring his szabla forward. The curved blade flashed at the same time he felt a blast of static from the other side of the field, and while it wasn't really as meant for stabbing as a rapier would be, it was fine.

Injuring her wasn't his motive anyway.

A twist and a hard pull made quick work of the wires hooked onto her gloves - or rather, that was what was supposed to happen. Instead, the curve of his blade snagged the wires and forced them to bend, and in the precious seconds that it took them to snap, LeAnna had already landed a few more good punches on him. "Man, if you're like towards all the guys… you must be quite the terrifying lady," he covered up his wince with a smile and a laugh.

Her alice blue eyes glinted with what seemed to be amusement. She hadn't been fooled. Slamming another palm forward, she expected him to make another dart backward in order to avoid the blow. At such close range, she had the upper hand, after all.

But he didn't.

Leaning in forward, Saber twisted to avoid her palm, and grabbing her opposite shoulder - at the same time cutting off her next attack before it could begin - he used her own momentum to swing himself behind her. The blade came whistling through the air, and she jabbed both elbows backward in order to give herself space to maneuver out of his trap, yet it wasn't enough.

As the albino was flung back, his szabla moved back with him, the cold metal coming to rest exactly on her collarbone. "Sorry, but I do believe we're done here."

"And the match goes to Saber Cyrille!" was the shout from Miles, as LeAnna forced Saber's blade away from her neck. Without a second glance, she was gone from the field.

 _Geez. What's her problem?_

* * *

 **Characters:**

Max Rogers and Butterfree (Butterfree) - blazelight790

Alister Little and Carol (Mamoswine) - Heir of Heart, formerly known as Arcana of the True Self

LeAnna Pierce and ? (Fennekin) - Kuro Shikaku

Chikae K. and Stahl (Steelix) - SDproductions

Atlas Cross and Helios (Rapidash) - CrimsonSkyTamer

Verona Moore and Break-Neck (Pangoro) - WereDragon EX

Saber Cyrille and Spark (Rotom) - SDproductions

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Hardcore. This chapter was just too hardcore for me._

 _The battle between Verona and Bryon was written by none other than WereDragon EX, so please, everyone go thank him - seriously, without his aid, I probably wouldn't have finished this chapter. The interactions between Maxie-boy and Alister was written by Amadeus, so that's another person to thank here, haha._

 _Credits aside, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I know I sure did, but I also do know that my brain is on the verge of meltdown, lol._

 _Also, I ran out of chapters in the storeroom a long time ago. Just an FYI._

 _This chapter will be updated with the full Verona/Bryon match when it's out._

 _Until next time, ciao! (O u O)/_

Next time on Crossroads: **Victory**


	11. Chapter 8

_A/N:_

 _Double update because I feel guilty for my quarter-year absence._

 _No, I don't have Chapter 9 in store._

 _Hooray for weird chapter names that have absolutely no correlation to the chapter. Yeah!_

 _Now… Presenting Chapter 8._

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **Victory**

* * *

Max ran through the hallways, ignoring the burn of guilt.

He had arrived on the scene just in time to see LeAnna leaving the field. Running a hand through his hair, Max frowned upon the realisation that he had missed at least a few battles. _No matter,_ the black-haired teen mused, _I suppose the results will become clear soon or later anyway._

Shoving both hands into the pockets of his jacket, he tried to prevent them from trembling. Was this feeling what people called being 'nervous'? Because if it was, he didn't like it. Not one bit. It felt crippling, paralysing, and was worse than a Stun Spore to the face.

A small jolt of electricity travelled up his hand from where it had come into contact with the Dusk Ball. The Rotom that was its occupant had returned before he had gotten to the courtyard where the battles were held, and was now having fun shocking him at random times.

It brought a weak smile to his lips.

He still missed having Butterfree around, but dreaded the moment when he would have to be on the battlefield without her - or against her, possibly. And with every passing battle that she did not appear, the possibility of him having to face her was just that much higher.

Was it worth it, really?

If he had to injure his best - and only - friend in order to progress through some stupid succession tournament, then what was the point of even coming here?

She would heal, sure, but the consequences of such an action would never go. Just like how he would never forget the end result of Cora's match, permanently seared in his mind.

"Contenders fifteen and seventeen, please enter the field."

The black-haired teen raised his gaze, only to meet a dark one full of mirth. Another glance revealed it to be Blaise, who stepped out confidently onto the field, flicking the Pokeball in her hands casually as she did so.

 _"Well, it's about time!"_

A drop of water fell on Max's hand, and he blinked, looking down to see just what had transpired. But it was in the movement of lowering his head that he realised, from the continued drops that fell, that he was crying.

Why…

There should have been no reason for him to cry. He was happy, so very happy that he wouldn't need to face Butterfree on the field, so why was he crying?

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **The Wax Witch, Blaise Candeloro VS Rhode Iilas**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

With a flip of her auburn locks, Blaise strode onto the field. Tucking away the unlit candle on her staff, she gave it a few twirls before taking a stance. She presented her right side to her opponent, pointing the steel ferruled butt end at her opponent.

Rhode Ilias on the other hand, gave her tomahawk a few practice swings and expelled a long breath.

Both women stared each other down wordlessly for a few short moments before Blaise thrust out the staff at Rhode's face, who brought up her tomahawk to hook it, and would have succeeded, had Blaise not snapped her weapon back, her feint having succeeded, and then thrust low, into Rhode's right thigh.

This was followed by a loud, earth-shattering explosion as a volley of Shadow Balls met an unleashed Psyshock, with the Meowstic launching himself at the Butterfree moments later, a Power-Up Punch already charged and ready to let fly.

The battle didn't stop there. Levering her weapon with practiced ease, the Wax Witch swung it horizontally back and forth, hitting a quick left-right-left-right combo on the inner sides of Rhode's knees before snapping the staff up and smacking her between the legs.

Even as Rhode groaned in pain and her shoulders slumped, Blaise didn't relent. She pulled the staff back and shot it out again, darting it into the other woman's jugular notch, making her drop her weapon and clutch at her throat, coughing. In the meantime, a bolt of pure energy was thrown across the field, barely countered by the blast of sonic that was thrown up as a last-ditch defence. Yet even that was followed up a blade of shimmering green waves, as Rye slammed it down from above, effectively cutting off Butterfree's aerial escape and ending the match in a matter of moments.

Blaise spun the staff and hit Rhode on the crown of her head with the top end of the staff, sending her down on her rump. Only then did Blaise relax her posture, holding the butt end of her staff under Rhode's chin. "Do you yield?"

The other woman nodded, still trying to rein in her coughing. Blaise smirked, looked over at the Elites, pulled her staff back and then bowed deeply at all the other contestants, eliciting some applause at the flawless performance.

Rising to her full height, and with another flip of her auburn locks, the Wax Witch walked off the field.

"Ladies and gentlemen - what a splendid act by none other than Blaise Candeloro herself!" It was a Cheshire grin that had spread over Miles' lips, even as he gave the microphone in his hand a little twirl. "Of course, the Meowstic was nothing short of spectacular, but hey, trainers first and everyone else second!"

Max vaguely heard Samuel mentioning two more numbers, but it was secondary to the bug that had practically rushed over in a whirlwind and tackled him into a hug. _"Thank Arceus. You did take care of yourself while I was with Witch-lady, right?"_

The black-haired teen laughed sheepishly, as a powdered wing slapped his face in mock-irritation. "Yes, I missed you too. Nice to have you back." His brown eyes fixed on Reuben, who had offered some jellybeans to his Meowstic as what seemed like a peace treaty. Despite rejecting the sweets, it didn't take long for Rye to tackle his trainer into a messy hug.

 _That's… surprisingly sweet._

"Reunions aside," Samuel stated with the barest hint of a smile, "the next match will be between numbers eleven and nineteen." He paused for a few moments, before chuckling, almost as if at an inside joke.

Thomas Pique groaned as soon his number was announced. It couldn't be put-off forever, but that did not mean he liked being a puppet in this… whatever it was the League was playing at.

The fact that his opponent was cute was a small consolation, however.

Before stepping onto the field, he jumped on his toes a couple of times. _Not enough of a warm-up, but to fuck with it._ Now readier than he had been ten seconds ago, he approached the middle of the field, where Chikae whatever-her-last-name-was stood waiting for him, smile in place and Pokeball in hand.

Tom looked down at the ball in his own palm. "Look, I don't know what you are inside, and I sure as hell know you won't listen to me." The ball shook an imperceptible amount. Tom only felt a slight vibration, if that. "I'll make you a deal, though. I won't get in your way, and you don't get in mine. But we work on our opponents and get this done, okay? That way you can go back to your trainer and I can just get some much needed rest."

This time, the ball bounced in his palm. Tom chuckled. _Alright then._

Tom tossed the ball up in the air, and with a flash of white light, a Chandelure materialised on the field. The raven haired man nodded once at the Pokemon, then at the lady to whom the dead and flaming candelabra belonged.

 _Creepy little piece of shit._

With a smile on her face that oddly reminded him of someone, Chikae gave the Pokeball in her right hand a casual flick. In a burst of white, both halves of the ball separated, leaving behind yet another yellow humanoid Pokemon. Only this time, it held what was clearly a spoon between its hands, and the red star in the middle of its forehead gave it away as a Kadabra.

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **Thomas Pique VS Chikae K.**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

"Well, I guess this is it." Leisurely walking up to the girl, Tom held out his left fist. His posture was relaxed. She hadn't seemed like a bitch, this girl, so he would treat this like a normal bout, no matter how it went.

It took a couple of moments for the pale haired girl to understand the gesture, but when she did, she beamed at Tom and bumped fists with him.

"Good fight," Tom told her, much out of habit, and then retreated back, all the while keeping his eyes on the naginata wielding girl.

She didn't attack outright. Chikae placed her left hand near the middle of the staff, thumb pointing towards the blade end, the other hand closer to the butt. Getting a comfortable grip, she raised her weapon over her head.

 _Well fuck me up, down and sideways._

The butt end of the naginata was pointed downwards and forwards, aimed straight at his face. Chikae grinned at him. "I'm all set~!"

Tom presented his left shoulder to the girl and started circling her, all the while considering his options.

 _She has a good stance. Hands are spread far enough so as to leave enough of the ass end pointing at me while still capable of serving as a strong leverage point. I fucking hate this bull shit._

She had range on him, too. She could just stand there and keep swatting at him until he couldn't dodge any more. Tom would have to close the gap and create any opening… at the risk of being sliced into ribbons.

Rotating on the ball of his right foot, Tom pushed off into a controlled sprint, pulling out his knife as he did so. He wouldn't even land a hit, he knew, but it would help to test the waters, at least.

As expected, Chikae thrust the butt end of the naginata straight at him, aiming for his left collarbone. Tom switched hands with the knife, holding it in a reverse grip so that the flat of the blade lay along the length of his forearm. This forearm he raised just as he came into range and braced himself.

The naginata's shaft slid against the flat of the knife and Tom pushed it gently to his left, never stopping his charge, not even blinking when a blast of blue fire shot by them.

Chikae, however, used this movement to swivel the shaft around, circling it over Tom's head and brought it around to bash his right temple in. Not wanting to risk flesh contact so early on in the match, Tom lowered his head and then his waist, letting the evil staff of doom fly over him as he dived into a roll. His plan had been to lunge for her midsection upon completing the roll, but that was not to be.

Moving with him, Chikae jumped back and as soon as Tom came out of his roll, swung the blade end of the naginata down on his head. Tom only had a fraction of a second to raise his knife covered forearm and take the brunt of the blow. His forearm rattled under the monstrous force of the downward swing and he clenched his teeth.

 _Fuck it._

Bringing up his right hand, he jabbed his open palm into his left wrist, angling the forearm sharply. The blade of the naginata slid along this slope and hit the ground immediately beside Tom.

Every instinct in his body told him to grab the staff and use this opening to his advantage, but Tom found that his left forearm was shaking violently, unable to move. Not wasting a second, Tom rolled back twice before rising to his feet, slapping circulation back into his left arm.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lone Chandelure facing off against five or so Kadabra - no doubt, Double Team had been used. Violent explosions shook their side of the field, reminding him to quickly return focus on his own battle.

Chikae had by then readied herself in the high ward again. She smiled at him. "You okay?"

"Just fucking peachy."

"Good! Come at me anytime you're ready, okay?"

Tom smiled wolfishly at her, the adrenaline finally hitting him and taking the pain away. _Oh, you can fucking count on that one._

 _Now… If I stay at a distance, I'm fucked. If I fail like last time, I'm pretty fucked too. I need to grab that shaft. But how?_

Tom circled Chikae just outside the reach of her naginata. She would need to take a passing step forward to reach him. He would have to coax her into taking that step. He had an idea as to how he would go about achieving that. May or may not work. Still, better than just moving around and doing fuck all.

While circling Chikae, Tom switched hands with his knife again, opting for a regular sabre grip. He felt Chikae's eyes on his every move. He waved the knife side to side and saw her waist sway with the motion ever so slightly. _Coiled and ready to react. Good._ He flashed her a wild grin.

Then dropped the knife into its sheath on his right thigh.

Chikae's stance stiffened slightly and she blinked in confusion. The opening only lasted a second at most, and Tom used it to lash out with a lazy front kick, raising his left leg and thrusting out his hips. It had no chance in hell of connecting, but it really wasn't what he was aiming for.

His previous action had made Chikae miss a beat. It was unexpected and her brain had taken a while to comprehend the non-threatening gesture while she was fully primed for a fight. So he had given her a target to lash out at, and she had done so purely out of reflex - she had reacted to movement.

The ass end of Chikae's naginata shot out again, but instead of thrusting into his foot - at which point he had intended to grab it after retracting his foot - the shaft whirled around his leg, pushing it out of its intended trajectory. The girl then pushed the shaft under Tom's extended shin and levered the limb upwards, so that his foot pointed harmlessly at the sky, forming a near straight angle in relation to the rest of his body. Tom grimaced as a mild pain spread along his crotch.

 _Always hated doing splits, but fucking shitbiscuits, they came in handy today._

Now that the ass end was in the air, what would follow was another downward swing from the bladed end, and sure enough, Chikae soon disengaged his leg to bring her weapon on him again.

This was what Tom had been hoping to make happen.

As soon the shaft left his leg, he brought it down by snapping the muscles on his thigh while simultaneously rotating on the ball of his right foot, wrenching his body out of the way as the naginata came down, slicing the air in front of him.

Chikae looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, but couldn't change the weapon's trajectory to cut at his legs until the momentum from the swing lessened somewhat. Tom took this opportunity to shrug off his already unzipped jacket and flung it straight into the girl's face, even as she was preparing to level the naginata for a thrust to his midsection.

His actions elicited a muffled squeak, and Tom took a passing step to his left, so that the naginata was now to his right, and grabbed onto the staff immediately below the circular handguard. Snatching a pole-weapon from a blinded girl seemed like an easy enough task, until Chikae took one step forward with her back foot, turned the whole weapon around, and smacked him on the left temple with the butt end.

 _Fucking fuckity fucknuggets!_

The motion had wrenched the naginata out of Tom's grasp, and the hit had disoriented him, and sent him back a couple of steps.

Chikae tore off the jacket from her face and flung it away. Her eyes now locked on target, she took a step forward and swung the blade down diagonally across Tom's torso, cutting him from the right collarbone to the floating ribs on the left side of his ribcage.

Tom grunted and shuffled backwards a bit more. The burning pain spread like wildfire to all corners of his body, but it also brought him back to his senses, just in time to see Chikae attempt a thrust at his chest.

 _"Pain Split!"_

It was then that everything slowed down around him for a brief few seconds. It happened every time he was at the goal and some prick was about to attempt a penalty.

 _This is kinda like that, Tommy boy. Just instead of a football, you've got a fucking fuckass blade that's gonna turn you into a skewered kebab coming at you. No pressure. Absolutely none at all, nope._

Tom swivelled on the ball of his right foot, turning his body sideways so that the blade thrusted harmlessly into the air in front of him. Before Chikae could twist the blade and try to decapitate him with a swing, Tom pulled out his knife and rammed the wooden butt end of it into the only vulnerable spot; Chikae's left wrist, which was now directly in front of him.

 _Lead arm neutralisation: Check._

The pale-haired girl grunted in pain as her grip on her weapon loosened. Tom followed it up with a backhanded hammerfist to the bridge of the girl's nose, again clubbing her with the butt end of his knife.

 _Disorientation: Check._

Her eyes teared immediately, even before the pain registered. Before she could blink away her tears, Tom went downstairs, bending low and smashing his left elbow into the her right femur, directly above her knee cap. Then he went down on his right knee and rammed his right elbow into her left calf from behind.

Yet another blast of fire ravaged the field, this time shaped by Psychic to avoid the duelling humans. With a muffled groan of pain, the girl went down on her knee, supporting herself by digging the butt end of the naginata into the ground.

 _Fucking up vertical base: Check. Time to end this, then._

Tom rose to his full height and positioned himself behind Chikae, placing his left palm beneath her lower jaw and tilting her head back up, thereby exposing her throat. He had wanted to place his knife there and force a submission, but before he could do so, Chikae stabbed the butt end of her weapon into his gut, then again into his solar plexus, making him grunt in pain and take a few steps back.

Chikae turned slightly, using her naginata to rise to her feet. Her left shoulder faced Tom, who dropped his knife. _This ends now._

He didn't even wait for her to attain a vertical base. Covering the distance between then, Tom placed his right palm on the back of her head, leapt off his left foot, crossed his right leg over her chest and the left shin behind her already hurting knee before twisting his body clockwise, taking Chikae down to the ground with him.

His right hand stopped her head from smacking into the ground, but it also acted as a leverage point when he pulled his left leg out from under her and placed his right shin across her throat lightly.

"Please yield." He didn't like they way he bled all over her in that position.

Chikae, who had been taken quite by surprise at the sudden takedown, blinked. Then with a sigh, she nodded. "I yield."

"Oh thank fuck," Tom muttered before rolling off of her and collapsing on the field beside her, chest heaving. The cut, though somewhat shallow, stung with every breath.

"You fought dirty, though."

"Please. I brought a fucking _knife_ to a glaive fight. Of course I'll play dirty."

The pale haired girl sighed and turned her face to look at her recent foe. "That last takedown… you guarded my head."

With a grunt, Tom sat up. "So I did," he said and rose to his feet slowly.

"Why?"

"Old habits die hard, I guess," he said and offered her his hand, which she took to get up. Once on her feet, she smiled at him.

"Thought you didn't give a fuck?"

"Not giving a fuck doesn't mean being an indifferent prick," he said as he bent to pick up his knife, just as Chikae picked up her naginata. Tom slid the blade into its sheath. "If you want the whole lecture, find me in the hospital later tonight. Now where the fuck'd you throw my jacket?"

She snickered. "It's a gone case."

He didn't quite comprehend it until she pointed it out to him. The jacket lay over the flaming Chandelure, which was on top of an unconscious Kadabra. Needless to say, the end result was clear, and the jacket too was on fire.

"Oh come the fuck on." Tom huffed. "It was a perfectly good, serviceable jacket."

Lundstrom chuckled eerily. _"Well, I'm not going to apologise."_ He waited just long enough for the flaming jacket to completely burn to ash, before shaking it off - and just to rub it into _someone's_ face, left the ash there on the floor. Of course, he could have chosen to not obliterate the jacket entirely - leaving it just a little singed instead - but hey, the human deserved it for being rude!

 _"Creepy little piece of shit, am I?"_

The male groaned, before tossing the Dusk Ball back to the Witch. "You owe me a new jacket, lady!" He shouted, before storming off the field. _Now where did that oversized lizard go…_

Chikae could only laugh.

Samuel cleared his throat, no doubt asking for the contenders to maintain decorum, but it went unheeded. With a long-suffering sigh, he announced the next two numbers - "Fourteen and one."

Silence.

"I repeat: the next match will be between numbers fourteen and one."

* * *

 **A new challenger has appeared!**

 **The Icy Observer, Alister Lewis VS Alastair Matthews**

 **Let the battle begin!**

* * *

It began suddenly - all too suddenly.

The whistle of metal cutting through air was cut short by several sharp _clangs_ and a rather loud _swish_ and a _whirr_ , before the blade of Alister's weapon hit the ground with a _thud_. The pale-haired teen still maintained a steady grip on the reinforced handle of his weapon, however, as compared to his dark-haired opponent, who kept a loose touch on his weapons of choice.

Silently, both contenders stepped onto the field, gaze never leaving the other.

Broken halves of throwing knives fell to the ground with a cacophonous clatter, but it didn't take long for the magician to pull more out from seemingly nowhere. With lighting-fast movements, one blade became two, then four, then eight - multiplying as soon as they were fired off; there could be no doubt that Alastair had great skill with sleight-of-hand.

Still, a hack and a slash quickly cleared the air of flying projectiles. The pickaxe in Alister's hands gleamed oddly, almost as if the sharper end of the blade was coated with a clear substance that somehow made it even sharper than before. It was just a pickaxe, but for it to slice through several throwing knives with ease… surely that alone spoke volumes?

A simultaneous clash showed the blades of both the Gallade and Doublade locked together, neither Pokemon giving an inch. Pale violet light exploded from the sudden sphere that formed between green blades, only to be stifled by the pulse of dark energy that swallowed it - but it couldn't be contained, and exploded in a blinding blast mere moments after.

Spheres and blasts of energy were conjured and launched at each other, causing the air to be thick with charges. Blades would clash for a few moments, before both parties separated, putting a few feet of distance between them in order to either deflect or cleave the special attacks in two.

Darting forward, his blue cloak billowing around him with a swish as he did so, Alister slammed his pickaxe down in a forceful slash. It would miss, he surmised, and the pale-haired teen's prediction came true as Alastair leapt backwards, firing off a handful of knives from the close proximity as he did so.

The cloak saved him from anything worse than a few shallow cuts, for which Alister was grateful. It also masked his movement of switching his two-handed grip on the pickaxe to a one-handed grip, mere seconds before he flung his now-empty right hand forward.

A knife shot past, leaving a clean slice on his palm, a pained hiss escaping his lips from the stinging of the wound. Still, he had bought himself enough time. Even though Alastair brought forth more knives by the next moment, it was already too late.

The pickaxe in Alister's left hand was swung horizontally with reckless abandon, leaving a blossoming trail of dark red on Alastair's torso, the dark-haired teen falling heavily to the ground. At the same moment, with a particularly loud clang, the Gallade was flung back by several tens of feet, slamming bodily into a reinforced concrete wall. Turning its baleful violet gaze upon Alister, the Doublade made to attack, only to pause as the announcement signalling the end results of the battle was heard.

"Despite Gallade's loss, Alastair triumphs- wait. No." Miles grimaced, not liking his mix up of the similar-sounding names. " _Alister_ Lewis Little triumphs over _Alastair_ Matthews, because the trainer's loss is an automatic disqualification for the Mon. There."

 _That's a tad harsh, isn't it?_ Max winced. To disregard the Pokemon's win if the trainer lost…

If that was the case, then why were the Pokemon even here in the first place? Did their presence hold any importance at all?

Was victory the only thing that mattered?

Max didn't know. But one thing he was definitely certain of.

 _I don't want to find out._

His musing was interrupted - yet again - by an announcer. _This seems to be happening very often today…_

"Chop chop, people; it's dinner time!" Miles yelled into the microphone. "The last two battles will be conducted after dinner, and that'll be it for the first round!"

"Already?" came the question from a few people, but Samuel simply shrugged, choosing instead to lead the way to the dining hall. Ampere flicked a paw in what could have been agreement, but honestly, who could tell?

 _"Nervous?"_ Butterfree asked, the small fluttering movement of her wings tickling his neck and face. _"Your battle's next, isn't it?"_

Max nodded. "At least I don't have to battle you." The relief in his voice was very much audible, and earned him a whack on the head from one irritated Butterfly Pokemon.

 _"Let's just get going already."_

* * *

 **Characters:**

Max Rogers and Butterfree (Butterfree) - blazelight790

Blaise Candeloro and Lundstrom (Chandelure) - Heir of Heart

Thomas Pique and Lucien (Charizard) - Wolfang1011

Alister Lewis Little and Carol (Mamoswine) - Heir of Heart

Alastair Matthews and Conrad (Medicham) - MetaRaven135

Miles Fletcher and Rosalina (Clefairy) - SDproductions

Samuel Troy and Ampere (Ampharos) - Imagination Heaven

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Blaise's battle and Thomas' battle were both written by Wolfang1011. Many thanks!_

 _Also, two battles left! But there's still the little issue of the after-effects of the poison to deal with… or is there?_

 _(As a casual note, chapter names might not have anything to do with the chapter. It's been that way from the very beginning, though. Hehe.)_

 _Until next time, ciao! (O u O)/_

Next time on Crossroads: **Electrify**


End file.
